


Have You Seen This Child?

by LydiaLovestruck



Series: Modern World [2]
Category: The Trixie Belden Mysteries - Julie Campbell Tatham & Kathryn Kenny
Genre: F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Medical Inaccuracies, Mystery, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-04-29 09:50:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 65,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14470074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaLovestruck/pseuds/LydiaLovestruck
Summary: An unconscious girl in the woods turns out to be an old friend of the Wheeler's, but Trixie questions her story. Plus something's going on in the Preserve that's got Dan thinking of his past. Maybe if Trixie pays attention to the right things, she can find someone she didn't know was lost, and reunite a family long broken by selfishness and tragedy.





	1. Have You Seen This Child

**Author's Note:**

> Unless otherwise noted, my Trixie Belden stories were all written between January 1998 and August of 2001 or so. This one takes place a little earlier than that. These versions have been revised and edited (for clarity, consistency and continuity only). They are complete and will be posted by chapters every other day or so (depending). This is not the order they were written or originally posted in, but these are being posted in mostly chronological order. There are some one-shots that will be edited and posted afterwards. In general, these stories are not for people who prefer a squeaky-clean Trixie Belden Mystery Experience. Please pay attention to the tags. If you think something should be tagged and isn't, let me know so I can make adjustments.

Bob-Whites of the Glen Clubhouse  
Sleepyside-on-the-Hudson, New York  
January 2  
9:45 p.m.

“Move to adjourn.”

“Second.”

“All in favor.”

A chorus of weary ‘Ayes’ filled the small clubhouse. Seven red jacketed teenagers sat around a wooden table, stifling yawns and rubbing bleary eyes.

“Meeting adjourned.”

“Thank God! That’s over,” muttered Jim Frayne, red-haired Vice President of the Bob-Whites of the Glen.

Trixie Belden glanced up at him. “Sorry, everyone, that this ran so late. I didn’t know I’d have to sweep out the fireplace tonight and keep everybody.”

“That’s okay, Trix,” her loyal friend, Honey, replied. “We understand. We’ve all been guilty of holding meetings up before.”

The others stood and pushed their chairs in around the table. “Yeah, Trixie. It’s also not your fault that some of us were up at the crack of dawn to shovel snow,” Dan Mangan reminded them.

Unlike the other teens, Dan lived in a cabin deep in the woods. Whenever it snowed, as it did the night before, drifts would pile up against the sides; on rare occasions, the snow would trap the occupants inside. That morning, in order to complete his regular list of chores, he’d had to dig his way out of the front door. Ironically, the snow didn’t stick and what remained on the ground had begun to turn to frozen slush, thanks to the still sub-freezing temperatures.

“Well, I’m for a shower and my bed,” remarked Di Lynch, long regarded the prettiest girl in Sleepyside. They heard her chauffeur beep-beep politely outside.

“I shall escort you to your car,” offered Mart Belden, Trixie’s 11-month older brother. It was well known he had a serious crush on Di, and that she returned his interest. He helped her with her purse and scarf and followed her into the winter night.

Jim Frayne, Honey’s adopted older brother, chuckled as the door swung shut. He turned to Brian Belden, Trixie and Mart’s oldest brother, and quipped, “Should we give him a moment?”

Brian smiled devilishly. “Are you kidding? Like he lets me alone when I’m trying to be alone with Honey.” His look changed as he realized he was talking to Honey’s brother.

“Relax, Brian,” Jim assured him. “I couldn’t ask for a better guy to take out my sister, now that I have one, that is. Just remember - I know where you live.”

Brian grinned and nodded toward the two girls, chattering on about something or other, as they straightened up the other end of the clubhouse. “The same goes double for you where my sister’s concerned.”

Jim held up three fingers. “I’m a perfect gentleman! Scout’s honor!”

“Poor Trixie,” Brian laughed, shaking his head. “She never has any fun.” With that, he tossed his scarf over one shoulder and threw open the door. He swallowed his laugh when he spied his brother and Di suddenly break apart from each other and carefully looked everywhere but at each other or Brian – or the ultra-polite chauffeur, still sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Well, drive safe, Di. See you tomorrow at school.” Mart opened the back door of the town car for her.

Di blushed furiously but refused to meet Brian or Jim’s amused faces. “See you, Mart,” she told him, then slipped inside the overheated automobile. Mart stepped away from the car and watched as the chauffeur backed out of the clubhouse drive and onto the Wheeler’s driveway, tires crunching on the gravel, pause, pull forward toward Glen Road and stop. The right turn signal blinked, the car pulled onto the road and the taillights sped from view.

“Hey, Mart, see you at home?”

“Yeah, Brian. I’m coming.” Mart sighed. It was difficult enough to get the nerve to talk seriously to Di Lynch knowing his brother and best friends were always around him. Forget it, he told himself. I’m just some blond Pagliacci with a penchant for ponderous vocabulary. He turned toward Crabapple Farm and began the long trudge home.

“Looks like it’s going to be one of those nights, Jim. See you in the morning.” Brian lifted a hand in farewell as Jim pulled his jacket closer.

The clubhouse door opened again. Trixie, Honey and Dan exited just as a gust of wind blew up the drive from the street. Trixie reached in to shut off the lights, Dan closed the door and Honey turned the key in the lock. Trixie pulled on the door just to be sure it was secure.

“Trixie! You coming or what?” Brian asked, torn between a desire to get under his down comforter and a sense of responsibility to see his sister safely home.

“Oh, all right! I’m coming.” Trixie hugged herself, determined not to let the early January weather get the best of her. “Good night, Honey. Good night, Jim. Dan, are you going to walk with us?”

“Sure.” Dan zippered his jacket over the thick blue sweater Honey had knit for him for Christmas. “You ready?”

The boys nodded at each other. Honey and Jim started off up the hill toward Manor House as Brian, Trixie and Dan cut through the woods towards the farm. Dan lived deeper in the woods, but the shortest path to his cabin began in the Belden’s back yard, so he often cut through their property on his way home or to club meetings.

As they approached the side yard, where Mrs. Belden kept her flower garden, Dan called out another good night/see you tomorrow to the brother and sister, then tucked his gloved hands in his armpits to keep them warmer and hurried off to the cabin. Maypenny was certain to have that old cabin as snug as possible, and Dan didn’t want to waste a single moment in the cold. He’d have enough of that in the morning, when he patrolled the larger section of the preserve. He normally patrolled that larger portion on weekends, and the smaller on weekdays, alternating with Maypenny. But this morning, he’d left both for the old man to handle. Maypenny didn’t mind, Dan supposed. He’d always been after Dan to spend more time with the other kids his age. “Wasn’t natural,” he’d say, “for a young man not to spend time with young people, especially if he could be chasing young ladies.”

But Dan didn’t care so much about all that. He loved his work out in the woods, among the trees and the animals. Some days, he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to even visit New York City again. Lately, his ‘dream’ of becoming a New York City Police Officer seemed like a plan carved in stone rather than just one single possible future for himself. He wondered what it might be like to live off the land, like Maypenny, at one with nature. But with a telephone. And maybe a TV. And a cigarette. Quitting smoking before moving to Sleepyside last year had been difficult. Cold weather, and the memory of warm smoke filling his lungs, made it still more difficult. But he hadn’t even sneaked a cigarette since before Christmas. Uncle Bill would be proud. 

He smiled to himself. His dreams may be changing, but they were still manageable. And doable. Probably everyone had the same doubts about their futures when they were 17, which he would be turning next week. Except his uncle, who at 17 was already making a living doing the same thing he was doing now, at 24: training and caring for horses.

Dan left the patch of light cast by the Belden homestead. The moon, practically new, barely shone enough light through the snow-covered trees to allow him to see clearly. He cursed to himself. He’d left his flashlight on his dresser instead of bringing it down with him. He’d have to be sure to remember it in the morning. Daybreak came late this high in the Catskills.

He cut through the back yard of Ten Acres, a ruined mansion belonging to Jim’s aunt and uncle, now belonging to Jim himself. It was part of the inheritance Jim had received long ago, when he first met Trixie and Honey, and had been adopted into the Wheeler family. Jim and Dan were both orphans, but while a wealthy family had taken in Jim, Dan had found his uncle, Bill Regan. He wondered who was luckier, Jim or himself. Jim had a new family, complete with mom, dad and sister, while Dan had a blood relative, who remembered Dan’s mother and spoke of her often when they were alone.

Dan and his uncle spent at least two nights a week together for dinner. At least twice more they arranged outings together, either the movies, dinner out, or something horse-related. Dan usually got to go along when his uncle went to county fairs or horse shows, looking for more horses for Mr. Wheeler to buy and train. Their relationship, while rocky at the start, had lately become almost brotherly. He felt much freer to confide in Bill the whole truth about his time on the street with his old gang, including the truth about the crime he’d been accused of committing that had eventually led to his release into his uncle’s custody. Those facts, while not completely unknown to Regan, coupled with Dan’s unforced discussion of them, cemented the bond between them and broke many of the barriers that had existed.

He decided that, for all Jim’s money and lifestyle, his only relative, his cousin Julianna, lived in Holland, and she hadn’t ever met any of her US relatives before visiting last year. Dan’s closest relative lived just down the hill. He glanced in the direction of the garage, above which Regan lived, but he couldn’t see it. He knew that he would be able to, if any light were on over there, so he knew his uncle had gone to bed already, or he was just watching TV with the lights off, or he’d been invited to Tom & Celia’s for dinner, or he’d been on a date, but no, he knew, his uncle would have told him if he’d had a date, besides, it was Thursday...

He heard a twig snap. He froze. Something was moving around in the undergrowth. Not for the first time did he wish for his flashlight, or even Maypenny’s walking stick, to use as a weapon. He heard another noise, but this time, he knew it was human. “Who’s there?” he called out.

A third noise, almost a whimper, drew his attention downward, to the thick undergrowth that characterized Ten Acres’ current state. “Come on out. I won’t hurt you. I promise.” He crouched in front of the bushes, hoping he appeared less threatening. His dark eyes searched for a visible clue to the identity or location of the person hiding from him. A rustle of movement drew his gaze to a shadowy mass huddled against a maple. He pulled some dried branches away from the base of the tree, revealing a small body.

His first thought, that it was an animal, a dog perhaps, faded, replaced by a realization it was a human. The person, dressed in jeans and a thick parka and covered with muddy slush, seemed to shrink from him. He moved forward, still crouching, and touched the person’s arm.

“It’s all right, I swear. I won’t hurt you. I just want to help. You can trust me.” He murmured softly, gently pulling the person’s arm toward him. The person seemed rather small, barely more than a child, and very rigid. It wasn’t too difficult to pull the child into his arms and then out onto the path and the pale moonlight. He tilted the child’s face upward and gasped.

Staring up at him, almost blindly, was a pretty girl, about his age, he guessed, with pale skin and dark hair. Her features were even and regular, but her expression was frightened and her eyes glassy.

“Are you all right?” he asked again. He looked around to see if anyone was with her but could find nothing to suggest she wasn’t alone. “How did you get here?” he asked.

She moaned and her head fell back. Dan realized there was something more wrong with her than the odd desire to camp out on Jim’s property. They were closer to Crabapple Farm than Maypenny’s. He tried the bob, bob-white whistle that was the BWG’s distress call but knew that the farmhouse was probably shut up tight and no one would hear him.

He maneuvered himself around the girl and picked her up. She weighed less than he expected. He shifted her in his arms and got a whiff of perfume and of cologne and, strangely, cigarettes. He groaned from the unexpected jolt of remembered nicotine and began hurrying toward the farm. If Brian couldn’t diagnose this girl’s condition, at least the Beldens had a phone to call a doctor.

The girl let her head fall back against his shoulder as he pushed through a break in the bushes. He whistled again, thankful that the porch lights were on at the farmhouse. He carried the girl up to the back door, readjusted her weight in his arms, and knocked hard.

He heard a commotion inside, a light turned on, and Mr. Belden himself, a robe wrapped around his flannel pajamas, opened the door. He frowned in concern. “Dan? What’s going on?”

“Evening, Mr. Belden. I found this girl out on Ten Acres. I think something’s really wrong with her, but I can’t tell. We need to help her.” Even as he finished speaking, Mr. Belden had opened the door fully, allowing Dan to bring the girl inside to the family room.

“Dan! What’s going on? Who is she?” Mrs. Belden, also in flannels and a robe, switched on a light beside the sofa and made room for Dan to lay the girl down. Mr. Belden pulled a whining, barking Reddy into his study and shut the door.

It barely registered to Dan that Mr. and Mrs. Belden had been enjoying a quiet evening alone in front of the fireplace and that all the kids were upstairs. He just lay the girl on the sofa, not thinking twice about her wet clothes damaging the fabric, and sat on the edge of the coffee table to examine her more carefully.

Mrs. Belden hurried to the bottom of the stairs. “I’d better get Brian down here to help.”

Mr. Belden pushed open the door to the kitchen. “I’ll get a cold compress and some soap and water to clean her up a bit.”

Alone with her, Dan saw that the girl’s hair was probably red and her eyes dark brown. A bruise had formed on her right cheek, a funny mark showing bright white in the center of it. Sweat beaded on her forehead and she was panting. Her hands pushed at her parka fretfully. Her eyes drifted from side to side, opening and closing at random. He heard footsteps from upstairs and Mr. Belden returned with a tray full of first aid supplies.

Dan had wrung out a cloth of soapy water and applied it to a gash on the girl’s temple by the time a worried Brian entered the room, tugging his sweater back over his head and asking, “What happened, Dan? Where’d you find her?”

Dan scooted further down the coffee table, allowing Brian, who’d already taken several rescue and first aid courses from the local Red Cross and the Sleepyside Hospital, to take over. He briefly explained what had happened as a yawning Trixie and Mart joined them. Mrs. Belden whispered to her husband that she had checked on Bobby, the youngest, and that he was still asleep. Mr. Belden nodded in reply.

“So we don’t know what she was doing there or why?” Trixie asked, a familiar gleam in her eye. It had been weeks since her last adventure and she was itching for another mystery to solve.

“Relax, Trix. The only mystery right now is how badly is she hurt and do we need to call an ambulance tonight.” Brian glanced up at his parents. “I should try to make a thorough examination.”

“Go ahead, Brian. Do what you can.” Peter Belden replied. “We’ll be in the kitchen making coffee and cocoa. This may be a long night.” He herded his children toward the kitchen. “Dan? Do you want any coffee or cocoa?”

Dan barely glanced up at him. “Coffee would be great, Mr. Belden, but I’m staying here with her. I need to make sure she’s all right.”

“Okay, Dan. Help me take off her coat.” Brian unzipped the parka and pulled it open. “Whoa!” he glanced at Dan with narrowed eyes. “Did you know this?”

Dan shook his head, bewildered. “No. I just found her and took her here.” He helped Brian remove the coat, revealing the girl’s partially nude torso beneath. If she had a shirt or sweater, she no longer wore it. All that remained was an unfastened bra and bony frame. Dan and Brian noticed at the same time that her jeans were only buttoned, not zipped. Several small bruises were forming around her waist; someone had grabbed her there. A bite mark appeared on her shoulder and her skin was marked all over by bloody scratches and cuts. They shared a glance.

“I think we need to call the police.”

Dan nodded. “I’ll tell them in the kitchen.” Then he noticed a glint of metal on the girl’s wrist. “What’s that?”

Brian lifted her wrist, saw that she wore a MedicAlert bracelet and cursed softly. “Did she have anything around her? A bag or a purse or something?”

Dan thought for a moment. “No. Nothing at all.”

“Come on, Dan. All women carry purses.”

“No, Brian. Nothing. Why? What’s she got?” Worry shone in his eyes. He knew what a MedicAlert bracelet meant.

“Diabetes. I think she’s going into some kind of diabetic shock. We need to get her some sugar or insulin now. She would have had something with her.” His fingers searched out her pulse point on her neck. He glanced at a clock on the sofa table and counted silently. Her pulse was rapid and her skin hot. Her hands kept twitching, pushing ineffectually at his arms.

“I’ll tell them to call 911 and then Mart and I’ll go check the area with flashlights. I must have missed something before.” Dan hurried into the kitchen.

“What’s going on? How is she? Who is she?”

“Later, Trix. I need to use the phone.” Dan yanked the phone off the cradle and dialed. The Beldens shared a look of quiet concern as Dan began speaking into the phone. “That’s right. Crabapple Farm on Glen Road. I found a girl in the woods. She’s got a MedicAlert bracelet on her. She’s got diabetes and I think she’s going into shock. I can’t find her insulin and I think she’s been attacked. No, I don’t know her. I was on my way home through the woods and I found her. You’d better send the police. I think –“ he glanced at the family, hanging open mouthed on his every word. “She’s been attacked.” He listened for a moment, then said, “Dan Mangan. 18 ½ Glen Road, care of Bill Regan. Yeah, he’s my uncle. Please hurry. Thanks.” He hung up.

Brian poked his head through the door. “Dan? You get through okay?” Dan nodded. “Great. Mom? I need some orange juice or something with a lot of sugar in it. Nothing hot.”

Dan turned. “Mart, help me search the woods for this girl’s purse. She’s got to have some medicine with her, Brian and me figure.”

“Let me get some jeans on and I’m there.” Mart bound out into the laundry room.

Trixie followed. “I’m going, too.”

“Oh, no you’re not, young lady.” Mr. Belden grabbed her by the shoulder. “You’re staying here.”

“Why? Three sets of eyes searching for this girl’s things will get them found so much faster.” She didn’t understand her parents’ objections.

Mrs. Belden took her daughter by the shoulders. “There may be a rapist out there. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’ll be with Dan and Mart. What could possibly go wrong?” She pulled out of her mother’s grasp and backed toward the laundry room.

“I’m sure that’s pretty similar to what this girl told her parents before going out tonight.”

Trixie sighed. She really needed to help this girl. “Then you come too, Dad. We’ve got enough flashlights.”

Mart reentered the kitchen. “You coming, Trix, or what?”

“Moms? Dad? Please let me do something to help!”

Mrs. Belden turned to her husband. “If you go with her, Peter, I won’t worry.”

He kissed his wife, smiled, and said, “All right, Helen. I’ll go, too. When the ambulance gets here, if we’re not back yet, ring the cowbell. We’ll be back right away. The police will want to search, too, and ask questions.” He turned to the kids. “Dan, you and Mart can go. Trixie and I will catch up with you.”

“Hey, guys. Remember it’s a crime scene. Try not to disturb any important clues!” Trixie called after them. She grabbed a pair of jeans and yanked them over her pajamas. She nearly collided with her father as she dashed for her boots and heavy coat in the main hall. She waited for her father in the family room and watched Brian still tending the girl.

He’s going to be such a good doctor one day! she thought. “Is she going to be all right?” she asked.

Brian barely glanced at his sister. “If we can get her levels normalized, she will.”

Mrs. Belden had gotten a small glass of fruit juice and was helping hold the girl up so she could sip at it. She murmured, “Come on, miss, take some.”

The girl tossed her head away from the glass, nearly spilling it. “No! No!” she muttered, her words slurred. “Don’t want –“

“Shhh,” Helen continued in a soothing voice, “It’ll be all right. You’re safe here. We just want you to have some juice.”

“No. Don’t know you.” Her eyes closed.

Trixie stepped forward. “Where is your medicine? Do you remember?”

Brian shot her an angry glare. “Can’t you see she’s in shock? She can’t really understand what any of us are saying or that we’re trying to help her. Scram.”

“Trixie, please. Your father’s ready. Go and help the boys find her things.” Mrs. Belden’s sympathetic eyes calmed her hurt feelings. Trixie knew she was in the way here. She had just hoped that the girl would be able to tell them something useful. She turned and found her father at the back door with two flashlights.

They hurried across the back yard toward Ten Acres and within moments found Dan and Mart, searching the area with their flashlights. Mart called over to them. “Dan found her over here,” he indicated the area in front of him with his light. “The ground’s been disturbed. Dan found a trail indicating she was probably trying to crawl toward the house for some shelter but only got that far. He’s following the trail that way. I think she might have been trying to get back somewhere.”

Trixie nodded, seeing the scene in her head. That’s where she was attacked. Her attacker left – somehow, somewhere – and she went in the opposite direction, toward the house. From the ground and the back, it does look as if Ten Acres is still pretty much standing. You’d have to have seen it from the front to know it’s not. Or was she trying to get to the road? Or to our place? She definitely was not going to go the way her attacker went. Which means her attacker was going deeper into the woods.

She shivered. A strange man was stalking girls in these woods? And where was he going? Or was he someone she knew? She stamped her feet to warm them and headed toward the bushes Mart had first indicated while her father began searching Ten Acres with Mart, working off the idea the girl had been trying to return to someplace safe rather than find one.

Apparently, Dan had stumbled almost on top of the girl while on his way home. She shook her head. She couldn’t keep calling her ‘the girl’ every time. She named her Jane Doe and continued her train of thought. Jane was hiding under the maple in these bushes. She pulled them away from the tree trunk. There was a cozy little hollow formed by the huge roots and an impression of a large mass in the ground, like an animal had nested there recently. Of course, that must have been Jane.

Heading deeper into the woods Trixie found Dan, his flashlight scanning the ground, following Jane’s trail. She caught up with him. “Find anything yet?”

“No.”

Dan’s quick answer told Trixie he was worried and feeling the pressure for a swift conclusion to their hunt. “Did she say anything to you that might help?” She tried again.

“No.”

A moment later, they reached an intersection of the trail where the main bridle path from the Wheeler stables met the one from Ten Acres. Several twigs had recently been knocked off their branches and the slushy ground had been kicked up. Dan picked up a rock, grimly noting a brownish stain on one sharp end.

“The scene of the crime,” Trixie said soberly. Dan nodded and replaced the rock on the ground.

“The police will want hair and blood samples. Maybe they can get some DNA off it,” he said.

“If Jane used the rock on her attacker and not the other way around,” Trixie added.

“Jane?” Dan shot her a quizzical glance.

Before he could speak further, Trixie shook her head. “Jane Doe. We can’t just call her ‘the girl.’”

“Yeah.” Dan nodded. “Well, this was where it happened. Something else should be here.”

Trixie and Dan fanned out. A moment later, Trixie spotted a bright green knapsack in the distance. She hopped down the incline for a better view. “Dan! I found it!” As he hurried toward her, she scrambled over some more rocks and branches, reached over a small break in the ground and grabbed a strap. It was heavy, but she managed to pull it loose from the bush it was stuck in. She brushed off some mud and opened the top.

Dan reached her then. “Is that it? Is her insulin inside?”

Trixie carefully searched the interior of the knapsack. She found mostly female clothing, a small book, an old stuffed teddy bear and a set of keys on a ring.

“What about this side pocket?” Dan suggested.

“Some detective I am,” she grumbled, opening the pocket and finding an insulin kit and blood sugar tester. “I never looked in the most obvious place!”

“Whatever,” Dan dismissed her remarks. “Let’s get back to the farm.”

Despite their earlier fatigue, Dan and Trixie were able to summon enough energy to race back to the other Beldens searching Ten Acres, yell that they’d found the insulin, and continue running up to the back porch of the farmhouse. Trixie handed the knapsack to her mother, panted, “It’s in the side pocket,” and collapsed against the door frame to pull off her boots. Dan yanked off his galoshes, too and left them to dry outside, following Trixie inside the warm family room.

Brian and his mother were not idle during the search. Although they had been unable to get Jane to drink much juice, they cleaned up most of her cuts and scrapes, removed her coat and jeans and covered her in a thick quilt. The girl lay still on the couch, her breath shallow.

Brian took the kit from his mother and swiftly read the instructions and easily deciphered a doctor’s handwritten notes.

“Brian?” Helen looked worried. “Are you sure you should go ahead and do this?”

Brian looked worried, too. “No, I’m not sure. But, it’ll take the ambulance at least another 5 or 10 minutes to get here. She’s getting worse, though, and no longer responsive. I’m not sure it’s safe to wait.” He opened the blood sugar tester and quickly read the directions. Then he took one of her fingers, used the finger-stick to prick the skin and touched the blood drop to the testing strip, held in place by the monitor. After thirty seconds that seemed like thirty years, the monitor beeped and displayed a number: 45. “Whoa!” Brian exclaimed. “That’s not good at all. She’s hypoglycemic. She needs more glycogen.” He searched the kit and found a pre-filled pen-shaped syringe full of glycogen. Again, he quickly scanned the instructions and dialed up the dosage. Then he stopped. Should he wait for the ambulance? He didn’t hear the siren yet. He turned a questioning gaze to his parents.

“Go ahead, Brian. Better safe,” Helen told him. Peter and Mart arrived and were stamping their bare feet on the carpet beside Trixie and Dan. Brian became uncomfortably aware of their quiet stares.

“It’s okay, son. You know what you’re doing.” Peter Belden’s encouragement seemed to do the trick. Brian smiled gratefully, then nodded and prepared a cotton swab with rubbing alcohol. He lifted the quilt, noticed a few track marks on the girl’s thighs, selected a spot just above what seemed like the latest one, swabbed, and placed the needle against the skin. He took a deep breath, steadied his hands, and applied even pressure against the needle. He felt the needle pierce the skin, move through layers of dermis and then the pressure gave out. He pushed the plunger and injected the glycogen into her fatty tissue (he hoped). When the level bottomed out, he released his breath and withdrew the needle, cleaning the bloodless wound with another swab of alcohol.

Brian felt light headed, so he closed his eyes. Minutes later, he heard a siren getting louder and louder. Flashing lights flooded the main hall and his parents rushed toward the front door. He heard voices asking questions and giving orders and then two EMTs were there, and Trixie was pulling him away from the sofa into an armchair. Someone pressed a glass of juice into his hand. He grimaced, forcing the liquid down his parched throat. He tried to listen to what the EMTs were saying. They were asking a question.

“Who gave her the glycogen?”

“My son did. He felt the situation warranted it –“ Peter Belden defended his son.

“Well, the doctors will have a fit, but I think it was a gutsy move. It’s what we would have done, had we been earlier. Don’t sweat it, kid. You probably saved her life.” They lifted the girl onto a gurney and began wheeling her down the hall. Brian followed, suddenly overcome with a need to be certain she would make it all right.

“Brian, stay here. We’ll call the hospital in the morning to check on her.” The others crowded into the main hall even as Peter laid a hand on his son’s shoulders to keep him from leaving. Brian turned to thank him and saw his youngest brother, Bobby, had woken up and was huddled on the sixth step, his thumb in his mouth and tears in his eyes.

“You okay, Bobby?” he asked gently.

Bobby shook his head and tears began running down his cheeks. “Who was that? Was she dead?”

Helen rushed to hold Bobby in her arms. “No, honey, she wasn’t dead. She was just sick. We found her outside and called the paramedics to drive her safely to the hospital. I’m sure you’ll be able to meet her in a few days.

“Who is she?” Bobby wanted to know.

“Well, honey, we don’t know-“ Helen shared a look of concern with her husband. How much should she share with her youngest, most impressionable child?

“Her name is Margaret Lang and she’s from Sugar Grove. That’s in Pennsylvania!” Trixie, still carrying the wallet she had found in the green knapsack, answered.

Mart motioned to the front yard. “Well, now we have some more information for the police.”

Sergeant Molinson of the Sleepyside Police Department strode quickly over to the ambulance. After a few hasty questions of the EMTs, he more slowly approached the farmhouse. Another squad car pulled into the drive, followed by two more. Four officers and a K-9 unit assembled in the front drive. Molinson approached the porch. Mart opened the door as the Sergeant arrived and admitted him inside. The ambulance turned on its siren and sped away down Glen Road.

After greeting Mr. and Mrs. Belden, Sgt. Molinson turned toward Trixie. “Well, Junior Detective, why don’t you tell me what happened so that I can go back home, another case solved?”

Trixie flushed. It wasn’t her fault she happened to be in the right place at the right time to solve crimes! Was it? Her mother intervened, inquiring if the sergeant wanted some coffee in the family room. Peter took Bobby back up to bed while Helen prepared mugs for the coffee and cocoa in the comfortable family room.

“First,” the Sergeant began, accepting a cup of coffee from Helen and Peter had returned to the room, “Can someone show my men where to start a search for the perp?”

Mart nodded, pulled his coat back on and left, leading the investigators through to Ten Acres.

Sgt. Molinson opened his notebook and opened his ballpoint. “All right. Who’s going first?”

Everyone turned toward Dan. “I, uh, guess I should.” He cleared his throat, betraying his nervousness at going first as well as his learned defensiveness around police officers. He told the officer, as succinctly as he could, how he had been walking home and discovered the girl in the bushes. When he got to the part about Brian beginning a physical exam, the sergeant asked that young man to continue.

Brian told him, “I noticed she was sweaty and pale. I saw the bruise on her cheek and some scrapes on her hands. I asked Dan to help me remove her coat. That’s when we noticed she wasn’t wearing anything underneath but her, um, bra. There were several bruises and cuts –“ he indicated the approximate locations on himself “-and we noticed her jeans weren’t zipped up, just buttoned. That’s when we knew for sure she’d been attacked, possibly worse. We saw the MedicAlert bracelet and I realized she was in diabetic shock. Dan went to make the 911 call and then he, Mart, Trixie and my Dad went out to search for her insulin. Moms and I made her as comfortable as we could. We cleaned out her wounds and removed her jeans, they were soaked through with snow and slush, and covered her with a quilt and afghan.”

Helen pointed out the coat and jeans hanging by the fire, drying out. “She wasn’t wearing anything else,” she said, delicately. Molinson caught her eye, then nodded.

“I see,” he said. “And the rest of you. Think you can show me where you found the insulin?”

“Of course,” Trixie answered. “But we also found this knapsack.” She pointed to the now-empty green knapsack at her feet. An explosion of clothing and personal items lay scattered on the carpet. “That’s how we know her name: Margaret Lang. She’s from Sugar Grove, Pennsylvania.”

The sergeant glared at her. “Would you mind, just once, Miss Belden, if you allowed the police to find out something?” But he took her place on the ottoman and began rifling through the clothing. Sighing, he gave up. “What’s all here?”

Trixie had the grace not to look triumphant. “About three complete changes of clothing, an extra pair of underwear and socks, a wallet and a teddy bear. I’d say she was running away from home.”

“What makes you say that, Trixie?” Dan asked, suddenly interested.

“Simple. If she were on a family vacation, she’d have put all that stuff in a suitcase, or left it with her family. She also wouldn’t be likely to take along some old stuffed animal for a few days’ or weeks’ vacation. She’d leave it behind.”

“Our Trixie. The Feminine Mystique explained.” Brian’s tone was dry, but he smiled. 

Trixie retorted, “Scoff if you must, brother mine, but I do understand how and why a girl packs certain things in her knapsack.” She didn’t mind Brian’s joke at her expense. He had been acting so strangely about giving Margaret the injection, she was glad to see he was recovering.

“I’m inclined to agree with you, Trixie,” Molinson interrupted, causing no end of raised eyebrows among the Beldens, “I think she was running away, too. I’ll run this ID through the FBI database. Maybe her parents have noticed her missing and have reported it.” He stood up. “It’s really dark out there now. I’ll be around in the morning to go over the crime scene in greater detail. Meanwhile, if you wouldn’t mind, Mr. Belden, could you show me the scene? Maybe go over a few details?”

Peter stood, but Dan interrupted him. “Excuse me, Sergeant, but I can show you. I’m the one who found Margaret and I was there when Trixie found the knapsack, so I can show you that, too. Besides, I have to get back to the cabin. Maypenny’s sure to be worried about me out so late, and I have school in the morning, even if it’s a half day. I won’t be available much for questions tomorrow.”

Molinson nodded. “All right. Lead the way. Ma’am,” he said to Helen, “I’ll be around about 9 to let you know what’s going on. I’m sure Trixie will be bugging you first chance she gets to find out all the latest. This way, maybe she won’t come down to the station to find out herself. When I have further questions, I’ll be in touch. Good night, everyone, and thank you for the coffee. I’ll send Mart back home.” He and Dan, who had already slipped on his heavy coat, exited the back door.

Five minutes later, Mart returned. Helen and Peter urged them back upstairs to their rooms before tidying up from the coffee and cocoa. “What a night!” Peter Belden exclaimed, securing the back door and turning the lock.

“Peter!” his wife scolded.

“What, sweetheart?” he asked.

“You locked the door!” She hugged him, feeling worry pool in her stomach. Were any of them truly safe anymore, now that violence had struck so close to their own home?


	2. Questions and Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are questions and answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a description of a successfully fought-off rape attempt. If this sort of thing bothers you, feel free to gloss over the part in the hospital room after the girls get Margaret to open up. Please pay attention to the tags. If you think something should be tagged and isn't, let me know so I can make adjustments.

Westchester County Hospital  
Sleepyside-on-the-Hudson, New York  
Friday, January 3  
2:30 p.m.

“Come on, Honey. They put her in ICU. Let’s go and visit.” Trixie pulled on her best friend’s arm impatiently.

“Okay, Trixie! I’m coming! I just don’t want to appear too obvious about it,” Honey gently chided her friend. “We’re supposed to be visiting all the patients. And we’re not supposed to be bothering the ones in ICU, remember?”

Trixie sighed. “I remember. I just want to make sure she’s all right. I heard from Moms that Margaret came around earlier, and that Sgt. Molinson was able to ask her some questions. I want to ask some questions, too.”

Honey regarded her friend with concern. They reached the main elevator bank and Trixie summoned the next car. “You’re not going to hound her, are you?”

“What’s wrong with you? Of course not! But remember our last Jane Doe? She turned out to be someone important and we helped figure that out. Maybe we can help this girl, too.” The car arrived and the girls entered. Trixie punched the button for the 4th floor. They were about to continue their conversation when a pair of nurses called to hold the door.

The two friends waited silently as the elevator deposited the two nurses on the 3rd floor - Surgical & Post-Op - before continuing. Honey said, “Our last Jane Doe had amnesia. This one knows who she is. From what you told me, everyone thinks she’s a runaway. That means parent problems. How can we help with that? She needs counseling, probably.”

Trixie sighed. “That sounds so reasonable. But I can’t help it. Something about this whole mess bothers me. I mean, what was she doing out behind Ten Acres? And who attacked her? And why? What would a girl from Sugar Grove want with Sleepyside? Why run away from there to here? What’s the point? Why not go to Manhattan? Or Philadelphia? Or Pittsburgh, even?”

Honey frowned, thinking about it. “She got lost?”

Trixie chuckled. “Nice try. But let’s find out for ourselves, okay?”

Honey agreed, still reluctant to bother a perfect stranger on the morning after a vicious attack. Trixie had related all the details to the BWGs on the morning school bus. Di and Honey thought it lucky Dan had happened to take that particular trail back home, and told him so repeatedly, since otherwise, Margaret might not have been found in time.

Now, in the hospital, the girls simply walked past the nurse’s station and ducked into a supply closet. The nurse on duty barely looked up as they pushed the door almost closed. They waited just a few moments for their luck to kick in as the nurse picked up a stack of patient files and walked down the hall away from the closet.

Trixie yanked open the door and hurried behind the desk. She punched in a few keys on the computer and brought up the latest patient list. Margaret Lang was listed for room 405. Trixie smiled. “Bingo!”

Honey whispered urgently, “She’s coming back!”

Trixie hastened back around the desk and the two girls walked as normally as possible in the opposite direction. When they reached room 405, they hurried in. Trixie peeked around the doorjamb. The nurse hadn’t noticed a thing.

“Whew!” she breathed, relieved.

“Trixie!” Honey whispered, a bit of wonder in her voice. “This was Janie’s – I mean, Julianna’s – room!”

Trixie nodded at the girl in the bed, staring at them with blatant curiosity. “Now it’s Margaret’s.”

Honey turned. The girl in the bed, Margaret Lang, stared at her. She had dark brown eyes, dark red hair and pale, almost ivory, skin. It looked to Honey like she’d never had a tan in her life. Margaret was also remarkably pretty, in a definitely Irish sort of way. She was slender, almost too thin, and looked almost frail. Honey smiled warmly. “Hi! I’m Honey Wheeler and this is my best friend, Trixie Belden.”

The girl half smiled in return. “I’m Margaret Lang, but somehow you already know that.”

“I’m the one who found your knapsack,” Trixie explained. “You were taken to Crabapple Farm after you were found last night. That’s my place. I mean, my family’s place. My brother Brian is the one who gave you that injection of glycogen that saved your life and our friend Dan was the one who found you in the woods.”

The girl nodded slowly. “Crabapple Farm. Brian. Dan. Woods. Uh-huh.” She licked her lips, wincing a little at a cut on the lower lip.

Trixie stepped closer. “Don’t you remember what happened?”

Something in the girl’s eyes seemed to close. “I was going into shock. I don’t usually remember anything when I do that.”

Honey pulled up a chair and sat down. “You’ve gone into shock before?”

Margaret pulled the covers further over her lap. She sat up straighter. “Once or twice. Not by choice, you understand. I know how important taking care of myself is. That’s why I had my stuff with me.”

Trixie sat on the arm of the chair. “We want to help you. Would you tell us what you were doing out in those woods?”

Margaret glanced down at her hands, clutching the blanket tight. “I got lost.”

Honey elbowed Trixie and shot her a significant glance. Trixie felt a bit deflated. It couldn’t be that simple could it? “Where were you trying to go?”

Margaret paused a moment, her shoulders shrugging. “Albany, I guess.”

Something in her manner told Trixie she was covering up something - something important. “You’re lying,” she said casually.

Honey stared up at her friend. “Trixie! How can you say that?”

Margaret half-smiled. “Yeah, Trixie. How can you sat that? We just met and already you’re accusing me of being dishonest!”

Trixie shot her friend a warning ‘be quiet!’ look, then turned to Margaret and said coolly, “Why on earth would you go to Albany? Most runaways go to Manhattan.”

Margaret laughed. “Not if that’s where they’re running away from. Got you there, Sam Spade.”

Trixie sat up, startled. “You read detective fiction?”

Margaret leaned back against the pillows. “What are you talking about? Sam Spade is the character in a series of mysteries for the computer. You know: The Maltese Falcon Starring Sam Spade, with Bruce Willis as Spade. Or, The Dame Wore Diamonds, et cetera, et cetera.”

Trixie grumbled, disappointed. “Well, they were books first.”

“Oh.”

“What were you doing in Manhattan?” Honey asked, getting them back on track.

“School trip.” Margaret stretched, trying to work out a kink in her shoulder. Trixie and Honey instinctively got up to help her readjust her pillows. “Thanks, that feels better.”

“No problem,” Trixie answered, sitting back on the edge of the chair. “So, why’d you run away from your school trip?”

Carefully, with warning in her eyes, Margaret replied, “I’d always wanted to see the capital of New York and the time seemed ripe. Unfortunately, the bus driver wasn’t going to cooperate. So I had him ‘disposed of’, got my things and left.”

Not buying the obvious lie for a moment, Trixie folded her arms and asked, sarcasm dripping from her lips, “Why not take the bus yourself? You’d get farther.”

Margaret smiled. She’d been prepared. “A Greyhound bus is easy to trace. They have GPS’s in them, you know. I don’t.”

Honey whispered to Trixie. “What’s a GPS?”

Trixie, unwilling to let Margaret know that she didn’t know either, whispered back, “Tell you later.”

Margaret smiled wider. “Global Positioning System. It’s a network of satellites that compares your position to a predetermined fixed position providing feedback to a central computer as to where you are in the world.”

“Oh.” Trixie felt her face get hot. She hated feeling stupid. Then something else clicked. “Sleepyside isn’t exactly on the way to Albany. You’d want to have taken 9W.”

“Oh?” Margaret replied warily.

“It is on the other side of the Hudson. Just like Albany.” Now it was Trixie’s turn to act smug.

“Like I said, I got lost.” She shrugged. “Why am I telling you any of this? You’re just candy stripers. The most you can help me with is choosing a suitably out of date magazine.”

Honey bristled. She took her volunteering quite seriously. “We do more than that! We provide emotional support, a cheerful attitude and a comforting presence. We assist the nurses by taking over minor, routine functions like filling water jugs and-“

Margaret interrupted her. “And prying into people’s personal affairs. Besides. Candy stripers aren’t allowed in ICU, are they? Just one touch on this button,” she brandished the nurse’s call switch, “and you guys are history. Just like that!”

Trixie and Honey shared an uneasy look. Just then Nurse Phillips entered the room. She was staring at a chart, so she didn’t see the stripers immediately. “Good news, Margaret! They located your parents and they’re on their way! Oh! Trixie and Honey. What are you two doing here? You should be in Pediatrics reading stories.”

Trixie and Honey stood guiltily. Trixie opened her mouth to offer a quick explanation, but Margaret spoke first. “It’s all right, Nurse. This is the sister of the guy who helped me last night. She was just concerned about me. You can go now. I’m fine.” She directed the last statements to the girls, seemingly eager to let them leave.

Trixie and Honey nodded, thanked Margaret for her time and exited the room. Trixie pulled Honey against the wall and prepared to eavesdrop. She waved a hand at her friend to be quiet so she could hear.

Margaret was talking. “How did you locate my parents?”

“It wasn’t easy! For some reason, your housekeeper thought they were in Russia, working on some business deal. But they were just in Canada at their fishing lodge. We contacted them about an hour ago. They said they’d charter a plane and fly into Sleepyside by early tomorrow morning.”

Margaret was silent for a moment. “So I have to stay here all night?”

“Well, normally you could check out, but with no place to stay tonight, you may as well stay here.”

Abruptly, Trixie started down the hall toward the elevators, pulling Honey along with her. Once inside the car, Honey demanded, “Trixie! What’s going on? What’s so mysterious?”

“Isn’t it obvious? She doesn’t want her parents to find her! She ran away for some reason, but not from home. From a school trip to Manhattan. But since when do schools plan trips over winter break? And her parents were away in Canada, but the housekeeper thought they were in Russia. Why would the Langs tell their own housekeeper false information? Especially with their daughter out of town and sick with diabetes?” Trixie blurted out her questions as the elevator descended.

“That does seem strange, unless Margaret set the whole thing up. But why run away in the first place? And why tell us she was going to Albany? And why was she on Glen Road in the middle of winter, and who attacked her? And where are we going now?”

Trixie grinned. “I’ll answer the last question first. We’re going to Pediatrics because those kids are counting on us. The rest, I’m determined to find out. Before the Langs arrive, I hope.”

**

Dan spent his school half-day fighting his fatigue. He’d taken at least another hour with Molinson last night, going over details about the crime scene, before he made it up the mountain to Maypenny’s. The old man had been waiting up for him, about to begin a search himself.

“I know you know this place about as well as anyone, Daniel,” he had said, “but I was worried just the same. Something just doesn’t feel right about the woods tonight.”

So Dan told the old man the story over a cup of soothing tea and it took another half-hour before he climbed the stairs to his room. By the time he’d fallen into his bed, he had been up almost twenty hours.

His alarm went off at 4 a.m., reminding him of his responsibilities. He showered quickly, wincing at the icy water, grabbed a strip of jerky, poured a cup of coffee into a thermos, jammed a woolen cap on his head and started out to the small barn.

Maypenny opened one of the second-story windows. “Daniel! If you like, I’d be happy to patrol the other side for you.”

Dan smiled. That was the larger, and more boring, section to patrol. “No, thanks! I appreciate it, but I already owe you. Besides. I’m already up. Go back to sleep.”

“But you’re a growing boy. You need your rest,” Maypenny protested.

Dan called up to the window, still striding toward the barn. “I’ll rest when I’m dead! Isn’t that your motto?” He grinned at Maypenny’s disgusted expression. “Tell you what. You make breakfast by the time I get back and we’ll call it even.” Maypenny, satisfied with the bargain, nodded and shut the window. Dan whistled as he set down his snack and began saddling his horse, Cranberry.

Cranberry had been a Christmas gift from his Uncle Bill. Bill had taken Dan to a horse auction in Saugerties, about three hours north of Sleepyside. They had made a day of it and Dan had picked up his Christmas exchange gift for the BWGs at the same time. He had thought they were just on a regular sort of Uncle/Nephew outing, just two guys and a car and not much else to do but window shop for horses and look at pretty women. 

But Cranberry had been a surprise. She was a young mare without much going for her in the way of looks. She’d been caught on a barbed-wire fence and had ugly scars across her left flank. But she possessed a spirit that Bill had instantly picked up on as perfect for his nephew. He purchased the horse ostensibly for the Wheeler stables, but on Christmas Eve, he led her up to Maypenny’s to present her to Dan as his own.

Dan couldn’t have been more grateful, or more humbled by the gift. His uncle was known for caring too much about horses to admit that someone else might care for them as well as he. Giving a horse to anyone meant he trusted them. Giving a horse to his nephew meant they’d come a long way in repairing their relationship. He vowed to himself that Cranberry would never know injury or suffer neglect. In that way, he could repay his uncle’s trust.

Cranberry, however, was still getting used to the trails through the preserve. That was another reason he wanted to patrol as often as he could. He started on the southern side of Glen Road, making mental notes of any feeders down, any salt licks that needed to be replaced and any unusual activity or signs of camping or poachers. He found nothing that couldn’t be explained away as a natural occurrence.

He’d opened his package of jerky and began drinking the steaming coffee about halfway through his patrol. He finished the jerky by the time he approached Glen Road. He saw the taillights of the paperboy’s ancient Chevrolet as he stopped at each mailbox along the road toward Telegraph. Dan urged Cranberry to hurry across the street. He didn’t want the horse to get the impression that the road was a safe place to dawdle.

On the northern side, he began at the Lynch property line and headed north. Dan again found nothing unusual. He circled back by the Manor House, noticing lights coming on in Jim and Honey’s rooms. The lazy rich, he grinned to himself, sleeping in every morning. He finished his coffee and debated heading up toward the stables to grab some more from his uncle. He circled the lake, still considering it, when he found what he wasn’t looking for: an abandoned campsite.

He got off Cranberry and tied the reins to a low branch. He glanced around, finding definite signs of recent camp activity. He saw day-old ruins of a small fire and a pair of downed logs pulled up around it. A few bones lay scattered in the brush to one side. He examined them carefully. They looked like pork and chicken bones. He picked up one of the chicken bones. There were unusual scratches on it, like from a serrated knife. An empty can of ravioli, a cardboard tube from a roll of toilet paper and a few Chinese take-out cartons lay further into the brush. He sniffed the cartons carefully. Extra-spicy General Chicken, wonton soup and pork-fried rice.

Dan felt nervous and sick. Something about these items being here, being together, worried him. What was it? He turned over a carton and spied a sticker on the bottom. To place an order, call (212) 555-EAST. Dan stood suddenly, nearly cracking the top of his head on a tree branch. “555-Eat At Shanghai Treat. The Best of the East,” he said unwillingly.

It was just amazing how good marketing slogans stayed with a guy, Dan reflected, staring at the box. But what was an East Side Chinese restaurant take-out box doing in Sleepyside? And why should he suddenly be thinking about the attack on that girl last night? What could this all possibly have to do with anything unless -.

Dan didn’t want to finish the thought. He tried hard to come up with a simpler explanation, but failed. He would have to face the facts. Old friends had come to visit.

Dan dropped the box and hurried back to Cranberry. If someone from the old neighborhood were back in town, he could easily guess why. He urged Cranberry into a swift trot and they moved along the path, hurrying toward the stables. If anyone knew what to do, it would be Bill.

**

Bill Regan woke up at 4:30 a.m. sharp every morning, rain or shine, week-end or –day. By 4:45 he had showered, shaved and dressed. By 4:50, he was out the door, munching on a cereal bar, swigging his first of 60 ounces of spring water per day.

His routine was pretty simple. He checked on the horses first, to make sure no health problems had occurred during the night. If they checked out, he fed them, watered them, and then checked them again. Starlight hadn’t been eating well the past couple of days. He’d better get the vet out to see him this afternoon, he decided. Lady’s eye infection seemed completely healed. He’d let her get some exercise with the others that afternoon. She should be happy about that, he thought. Jupiter finished his food quickly and began bumping against the stall door. Regan smiled. He was just as anxious to get going on their morning ride as the huge black animal.

Regan knew the BWGs might be able to ride that afternoon after their half-day at school, so he decided just to ride Jupiter. A second ride in the afternoon wouldn’t be so bad. The horse had a lot of excess energy and loved to work it off. He slipped a halter over the horse’s head and carefully led him out of his stall to saddle him.

Regan had just finished tightening the cinch when he heard hoof beats. He smiled. Perhaps he’d join his nephew for a quick tour of the preserve. Just as he thought that, Dan and Cranberry came into view and pulled up short. He felt himself involuntarily scowl. That wasn’t the way to treat a fine animal like Cranberry, but Cranberry also wasn’t his responsibility. It was Dan’s. He opened his mouth to say ‘good morning’, when Dan blurted out, “Uncle Bill! I have to talk to you! It’s serious!”

Regan closed his mouth, nodded, and fairly leapt into the saddle. “We can talk and ride. You need to walk your horse a bit.”

Dan accepted the criticism with a humble nod. “I know. But this is important and I need to talk to someone about it.”

Regan signaled Jupiter to leave the stable yard and Dan, on Cranberry, followed. “Have you patrolled the northern side yet?”

“No, and I need to.” Dan urged Cranberry next to Jupiter and they set off across the back lawn toward the woods.

As they rounded Manor House, they met up with Jim and Honey, laughing together, dressed to ride. “Oh! Good morning, Regan, Dan! Wait up a minute and we can go with you!” Honey smiled happily. She loved nothing better than to ride with a group of people. It just seemed more fun that way and less like a chore.

Jim wished them a good morning and added his invitation to his sister’s. “We were planning on stopping at Crabapple Farm, too. It’s Friday and that means Mrs. Belden’s making buttermilk biscuits.”

Regan’s eyes lit up at the thought and glanced at his nephew. Dan felt his stomach rumble, despite his bit of jerky. He wasn’t ready to share his particular news with anyone but his uncle just yet, but there was news he needed to tell the three of them, so he nodded. “Hurry up. It’s cold out here.”

Jim and Honey hurried off for the stables to saddle up. Dan turned to Regan. “Sorry. But there’s something else I need to tell all of you. Something serious.”

“What about what you wanted to talk about?” Regan regarded his nephew with concern.

Dan took a deep breath. “It’ll keep for now. Don’t mention it to them, though. I especially don’t want to worry Honey. Or get Trixie involved.” He gave his uncle a look that made Regan laugh.

“Got it. No problem.” They turned the horses around and trotted back toward the stables to wait for the other two.

Despite the snowfall on the two nights previous, there remained little beyond dirty slush on the ground, especially through the ‘high-traffic’ areas surrounding Manor House. Cranberry was already sporting mud splashes on her knees and Jupiter was beginning to look just as disreputable. Jim and Honey hurriedly saddled Strawberry and Susie respectively, and joined them in the stable yard. The quartet started off at a brisk trot, once more around the side of the house.

Manor House was just coming awake. The various servants were beginning to make breakfast, pick up the morning paper, brush slush off the walk to the garage and wake the Wheelers. Once they were without earshot of the house, Dan told them about the events of the night before, leaving out the suspected sexual nature of the attack. He figured Honey didn’t need to know and he could tell Jim later, if he didn’t hear about it from Brian or Mart. Besides, Trixie was just as likely to tell Honey, and Dan couldn’t see himself discussing anything to do with sex with Honey. Honey was his boss’s daughter. That meant he had a responsibility to her that went beyond friendship.

The quartet rode toward the farmhouse, asking questions quietly, one by one, until they fell silent. The farmhouse had long since been up and Mrs. Belden spied them from the kitchen window and met them by the door. “Good morning, Regan! Jim, Honey, Dan,” she greeted them in turn. “Can I begin to guess what has brought you four to my door this Friday morning?”

“Merely the wish to see your cheerful face, Mrs. Belden,” Jim smiled.

“And the hope that I might have made enough biscuits to share?” she smiled in turn. “Come in for a moment. The kids are already up and Mr. Belden is on his way down, too.” Jim and Honey eagerly obeyed, tying their horses to the back porch.

Dan didn’t dismount. “Actually, Mrs. Belden, I still have a lot of patrolling to do. Is there a way I can get that order to go?”

“For our hero du jour, anything. Did you tell them about last night?” she asked.

Honey, climbing the steps to the kitchen door, shivered. “I think it’s terrible to think of that poor girl out there in the dark alone! I’m so glad Dan found her as soon as he did!” She hugged Mrs. Belden and entered the fragrant, warm kitchen.

Jim hugged Mrs. Belden, too, and kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks for letting us crash. Your biscuits are the best!”

“What about you, Regan?” she asked. “Are you staying or going?”

“I guess I’ll be going. Jupiter’s got a lot of pep this morning.”

“I’ll get you two a basket. What you don’t eat, you can pass along to Mr. Maypenny.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Belden. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.” Dan told her sincerely. Indeed, Maypenny was always supremely touched whenever one of his neighbors presented him with a gift of food.

“Well, he should! And you can tell him ‘thank you’ for me. These are the best sugarless biscuits I’ve ever had.” Helen had disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a basket full of biscuits, all wrapped up in a towel, a small jar of honey butter nestled inside.

“Thank you for what, Ma’am?” Dan asked politely, accepting the warm basket.

Helen looked surprised. “The recipe belonged to his wife, of course. Let me tell you, when I made these for Peter’s mother the first time, she nearly had a seizure at the thought that I could bake better than she! The expression on her face!” She chuckled. “I lived on that for months afterward.” She turned conspiratorial. “Mother Belden was a difficult woman to cook for, I can tell you.”

Her husband joined her at the door. “Morning, Dan, Bill. What are you going on about, Helen? You’re letting in all the cold air,” he chided gently, slipping his arms around her from behind.

“Apologies, Mr. Belden,” Regan began. “We were just stealing some of your breakfast.”

Dan held up the basket and grinned. “Thanks!” he called out, laughing. They waved goodbye and exited the Belden farmyard, careful not to let the horses trample the future flower garden.

They split a biscuit and shared the honey butter in silence, enjoying the early morning forest sounds: the first chittering of the waking birds, the soft hum of a car traveling down Glen Road, the occasional rustle of a fox or rabbit scampering from the horses.

“It’s so beautiful out here, so silent,” Dan breathed. “So different from the city.”

Regan nodded. “I can well imagine. The smog, the pollution, the never-ending noise. I don’t know how you could have stood it.”

Dan smiled. “It’s not so hard to explain. The city has an energy about it. It’s all around you all at once and so powerful, you have to become one with it. You groove with it, as my dad used to say. Don’t get me wrong, though,” he grinned, “I like the woods, too. Except here, the energy and the life doesn’t jump out at you unless you’re still and quiet. It sort of seeps into you, creeps over you until one day you realize you’ve just wasted an hour of your life watching a deer with her fawn, yet it felt like the most important thing you’d ever done, watching that deer with her fawn.”

Regan nodded knowingly. “I’ve spent many an hour watching rabbits and woodchucks. But I can’t imagine ever feeling as comfortable in the city.”

“Well,” Dan explained, “The city forces itself on you. Forces you to step at the same beat as everyone else. It connects you to other people even as it lets you completely ignore everyone else. It’s like everyone is part of this massive thing. Or like everyone has the same heart beating at the same pace.”

“And if your heart can’t beat at that pace?”

“The city will chew you up and spit you out.” Dan replied quickly with a typical New Yorker attitude and a cocky grin. Then he sobered and said, “Or it changes you into something cold and hard. Something not really human anymore.”

Regan was silent for a moment. He wondered if Dan was referring to himself as he was just a year ago – cold, hard, almost inhuman. Regan hadn’t known his sister’s whereabouts ever since she left the foster care system to get married at 16. Regan had just been 7 years old when he last saw her. The foster families that cared for him didn’t seem to know where Rebecca Regan was or how she was doing, nor would they let him try to contact her. Finding out that his sister had lost her husband and then died herself, leaving her only son to the tender mercies of a tough street gang had been difficult enough. But then to face that boy, his only living relative, and try to establish some sort of relationship with him, that was a real challenge.

Dan hadn’t been willing at the beginning to give his uncle the time of day or the benefit of the doubt. All he knew was that some stranger, who half resembled his mother, now had guardianship of him, and would keep him out of jail, if and only if Dan moved to some Podunk little town a few hours north of the city, away from all that he had ever known. The man cared for horses, for heaven’s sake! And worked for somebody else! Some rich guy that probably had his uncle ‘yes sir’ and ‘no sir’ all day long. To top it off, Regan wanted Dan to live with some old hermit in a log cabin in the mountains and work for his living. Work!

Not to mention the goody-two-shoes kids that lived around him. They were all friends of his boss’s kids and they all got along better with his own uncle than he seemed able. Would they report his behavior to his uncle if he screwed up? Would they lord it all over him? Make fun of him? After his first 24 hours, Dan had made plans to run away and rejoin his gang.

But then he met Bobby. A cute little kid who didn’t look at Dan like he was going to knife him to death. And Trixie was kind of cute, too, if a little naïve. And he hadn’t liked making Honey or Di cry. His mother had always taught him to be nice to girls, that being nice would pay off in the long run. On the street, he’d met a lot of girls he hadn’t needed to be nice to, to understand what his mother meant by ‘pay off’. But these girls were different. And the guys were okay, too. And then one of his old gang showed up, and Bobby’s life was threatened, and Trixie and Bobby had needed his help and that had been the end of any plan to return to Manhattan.

And Trixie had apologized. And Bobby started to worship him. And the other BWGs accepted him into their club, surprising him with a member’s jacket at that Winter Carnival. It was like being accepted into the gang, except without the initiation of blood. It was much easier to resist the temptation to return to the streets when a second member of the gang showed up to rob his friends blind. Much easier to resist than a cigarette, he’d found, after trying multiple times to quit. But every time he resisted the old habits, the old habits got weaker.

“It’s about the old gang,” Dan said finally, breaking the silence. “I think they’re back. One or two of them, not many more. I’m not positive why, but I can guess.”

Regan laid his full attention on Dan. “You can tell me.”

Dan glanced away. “I found a campsite on the other side of the lake,” he related the events of the morning and his conclusions.

Regan thought for a moment as the horses picked their way up the path. “I’ll say this: I’m glad you told me first. Although you do need to tell Maypenny so he can tell Wheeler when he meets for his report. Do you really think they’re here to get you back?”

“Or to get me out for good, yeah. Blood in, blood out.” Regan shook his head at Dan’s bald recitation of the gang’s code of ‘honor’. “Hey, Uncle Bill, that’s what I signed on for. I knew that going in and I was cool with it. I figured, what was my life worth without them, anyway? Nothing. So I might as well belong to something that was going to give my life meaning. Knowing that I was important to the gang, what my leaving would mean, that was pretty heady stuff. It made me feel tough. Important. Consequential.” He laughed harshly. “Of course, I wasn’t in school then, so I wouldn’t have known what ‘consequential’ meant. But you get the idea.”

“I can’t see how you can laugh at this.”

“Uncle Bill, really. What can I do to stop this? I don’t know where they are now, or even if they’re really truly after me. I think they are, but that doesn’t mean they are. I could just be pulling a ‘Trixie’ and jumping to completely the wrong conclusion.”

They had reached Maypenny’s cabin by this time. Morning rays splashed through the trees and against the cabin. Maypenny had built on the highest 10 acres in the immediate area, so the cabin was usually well sunlit.

Regan and Dan left their horses in the warm stable and walked to the cabin where they could smell bacon and flapjacks. “I’ll tell Maypenny after breakfast,” Dan said. “He hates to talk about work over a meal.” 

Regan nodded and followed him in. He hated to talk about that gang at any time.

The conversation had been brief. Maypenny didn’t give advice unless explicitly asked to, which was a major reason he and Dan got on as well as they did. He just accepted the information about the campsite and agreed to just tell Mr. Wheeler the bare facts. He couldn’t see any reason to worry the man over what may very well turn out to be nothing.

Dan brushed his teeth, grabbed his books, cared for Cranberry and made it to the bus just in time to board. The rest of them had finished filling Di in on all the details, so when he slumped into his usual seat, they all turned to congratulate him.

Dan didn’t understand what the big deal was. He just did what anyone would have done. As far as he was concerned, Brian really saved her, since he knew what to do to help her. And the paramedics, too. And the police, for trying to find the attacker. He kept mostly silent about the whole thing, figuring the excitement would blow over by the end of the half-day.

But by lunchtime, he’d been swamped with questions and comments from teachers and students alike, all wanting to know how it felt to be a ‘hero’. All wanting to express their own congratulations. All intruding on his usually solitary school day. He met the BWGs for lunch, grateful they, at least, seemed to be over the whole thing. Then Trixie and Honey started in with their rhetoric. Why was she there? What was she doing? How did she get that far into the woods in the first place? When was she attacked? Who attacked her?

Mart & Di, at least, rallied to keep Trixie’s curiosity from growing too large. They reminded her the police had probably already located her parents, the girl was just a runaway and the attacker, well, they should all just be more careful in the future.

Dan went home with thirty pages of history, two pages of Geometry, a French translation and a headache. Maypenny met him halfway up the hill. “Molinson came by. He had some news about Miss Lang. Apparently, her parents were up in Canada. They chartered a flight into Sleepyside and will be here in the morning. Miss Lang is all recovered.”

Dan nodded. “I’m glad. Maybe she can work things out with her parents.”

Maypenny squinted at him. “There something else bothering you?”

Dan sighed. “No, not really. Everyone was asking me all day about what happened and it all just got worse as the day went on. On the bus home, someone actually said he heard I’d killed the attacker! Why can’t people get the story straight?” He shook his head in amazement.

Maypenny laughed. “Human nature, Daniel. That’s all that is. People just want to be the first with any news, and they want the listener to be impressed with them. They’ll forget all about it soon enough, especially with that girl going home where she belongs.”

They started back up the trail to Maypenny’s cabin. “Her parents are due in tomorrow, then?” Dan asked, aiming for nonchalance.

A wise Maypenny answered in the same easy tone as before, “Uh-huh. But, I bet she’d like to see her rescuer first. Maybe thank him before she goes.”

Dan glanced up at the old man. Maypenny stared blandly back at him. Dan’s face split into a grin. “You got me. I admit it. I’d like to check up on her myself. Is it okay if I skip dinner at home tonight? I’m going to head on over to Uncle’s and maybe borrow the club car to go into town, see if anyone else wants to go, too.”

“Now, why do I get the notion that you won’t have a whit of trouble getting volunteers to go with you?”

**

True enough, by the time Dan was ready to start down the drive, he’d gotten Jim, Brian and Mart in the car with a promise to Di to stop by and pick her up. They were planning to meet Trixie and Honey at the hospital, since they were already there, volunteering. The Candy Stripers still had another hour to go, so the guys (and Di) planned to eat in town before catching up with the other two.

Burgers at Wimpy’s satisfied their hunger, but catching up with the Candy Stripers whetted their appetite for information. Di and Jim were the only two to not have met Margaret, but Jim allowed Di to push for a meeting ASAP. Trixie led them to the elevators. “She’s in a private room in Pediatrics now. She got moved about an hour ago, since she’s out of danger. Which is great, since Ped’s isn’t guarded like ICU.”

Still, the septet raised a few eyebrows on the nursing staff, but when Honey charmed the floor nurse to allow them to visit “for 15 minutes, tops” since “Margaret would have been discharged but for unusual circumstances” and “most of these people are the ones who helped her last night and just want to see for themselves she’s all right”, they let them in.

Margaret was sitting upright in her bed, staring at a muted TV. Her eyes widened as the BWGs crowded into the room. “Can I help you?” she asked, a warning in her voice. “You again! What is this? You brought reinforcements?” She glared at Honey and Trixie.

“Hi, Margaret!” Honey had long ago realized that a disarming manner would overcome any objectionable attitude. “Since you were transferred out of ICU, my friends and I thought it would be nice to come and visit.”

“Before your parents took you out of here, anyway,” Trixie added.

Margaret glanced uneasily at all the faces. “Why are you all wearing the same jacket?”

Honey smiled cheerfully. “It’s a club we formed a couple years ago. Let me introduce you. That’s Mart and Brian Belden, Trixie’s brothers –“

Margaret nodded at them slowly. “You two twins?” She asked Mart, interrupting Honey.

Mart sighed inwardly. “Negative. We were not ‘womb-mates’.”

While the others groaned at his pun, Margaret returned her attention to Honey. “Go on. Who are all the rest of them?”

Her cheerfulness slightly dented, Honey continued. “Well, that’s Diana Lynch, who lives down the street from us,-“

“Nice to meet you,” Diana inserted.

“-this is my brother Jim and this is-“

Margaret interrupted again. “Well, you two don’t look anything alike. Are you sure you’re related?”

Beside her, Trixie could feel Jim stiffen before answering, “I’m adopted-“

“Yes, of course we are! I consider him just as much my brother as if he’d always lived with me!” Honey’s words overlapped Jim’s, her emotional response causing Brian to slip an arm across her shoulders to calm her. She glanced up at him and bit her tongue.

A small smile crept over Margaret’s lips, but Trixie noted a touch of something else in her eyes besides humor. What was it? Sadness? Loneliness? Anger? Standing on her other side, she noticed Dan hadn’t said a word. Instead, he just looked at Margaret without any expression at all. Margaret turned her attention to him. Her smile seemed to freeze and then fade.

Margaret felt her breath catch. Something about the guy kicked up a memory for her, but what exactly? And why was he staring at her so hard? “Who are you, then?” she asked outright.

“I’m Dan Mangan,” he replied. “I’m the one who found you last night.”

She repeated, “You found me?” When he nodded slowly, she continued. “Are you sure that’s all you did?”

The girls gasped almost in unison. Jim folded his arms, Brian stood straighter and Mart’s mouth fell open. Dan merely let his left eyebrow rise in derision. “I wasn’t the one covered in mud unable to speak.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Maybe you were the one who got me into that condition!”

Dan leaned forward, forgetting the others in his sudden anger. “Let me get something straight with you, sister! I don’t go around accosting strange girls in the woods. That’s not how I get my kicks. You were too far gone to even notice what I was doing, which was saving your sorry butt, so don’t start accusing me!” He glanced around at the others, who now stared at him with a wide-eyed mixture of concern and amusement. “I don’t know why I came here. She’s obviously recovered. I’m out of here.”

Trixie stared at him as he brushed past them and swiftly left the room. The echo of his work boots on the hospital linoleum faded, but no one seemed ready to break the suddenly thick tension by speaking or moving. She forced herself to breathe evenly. Dan so rarely lost his temper, she wasn’t sure how to handle it. Would he get over it quick, or should someone go after him? At the same time, she heard Honey saying to Margaret, “that wasn’t nice. He saved your life, you know. You owed him a thank-you, not an insult!”

Di’s eyes burned violet fire. “That’s right! You are so rude! You have no idea what kind of person Dan is, or what he’s been through! To treat him like, like, like a dog is really, really – mean!”

“It’s despicable,” Mart added.

“It’s outrageously insensitive,” Brian continued.

“Not to mention miserable and low.” Jim shook his head. “I’d be surprised if you had any friends at all, if you treat the people who help you this way.”

Trixie, proud of the way her friends came to Dan’s defense, turned to give her own. She opened her mouth, all set to join in, when she noticed Margaret’s eyes. They were brimming with tears. Then she noticed her jaw. It was set and angry.

Margaret spit out her words through gritted teeth. “I don’t care what any of you people think about me! I was not put here on this earth to please you or to conform to your idea of what I should do and when! I have no idea what sort of person he is, that’s true. But can any of you say what he was doing last night at sunset? For sure and absolutely?”

Trixie glanced at the guys. Brian answered firmly, “He was with us from noon until 9:30.”

Mart clarified, “He and I are working on a science project together. We met at our house after school to go over our plans. He stayed for dinner. We worked some more and then went to a club meeting. That was over at 9:30 and he went home. Not 10 minutes later, he’s in our living room with you. That was way after sunset.”

“See?” Di told her. “You don’t know what you think you know.”

Margaret sniffed. “Actually, I know a lot and I think I know it all. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have automatically assumed the worst. The thing is, I have a hazy idea of the guy who attacked me, and it looked a lot like Dan, but I could just as easily be mistaken.” She relaxed her hands, letting go of the blanket. “I’m sorry I insulted your friend. And, Jim? You’re right. I don’t have many. It’s probably because of the way I come across sometimes.”

Trixie smiled, feeling a bit more magnanimous, especially since the girl had brought up the subject of her attack herself. “Apology accepted. We come across a little strong sometimes, too.”

Mart muttered, “Speak for yourself.” Di nudged him and he shrugged.

Trixie continued. “We just wanted to see how you were doing, and maybe break up the monotony of staring at your TV all by yourself. So! You remember the attack?” Margaret stared at her. Trixie felt her friends stare at her back, but she smiled encouragingly anyway.

“Boy! You’re not subtle, are you!” Margaret shifted her position and glanced at the others. “Yes, I remember the attack. I remembered it this morning, when the police were here. I told that very nice Sergeant Molinson all about it. What’s the big mystery?”

Trixie still didn’t look at or acknowledge her friends in anyway. It was easier to interrogate someone when she wasn’t feeling the pressure her brothers, and especially Jim, put on her. But since she couldn’t order them out of the room, she pretended they weren’t there at all. “What do you remember about it?”

Honey moved to stand just behind Trixie. “We’re just kind of concerned. You see, we live out there and we’re in the woods all the time by ourselves. We’re just worried that something like what happened to you could happen to us.”

“Yeah,” Trixie agreed, grateful once again for Honey’s legendary tact, “we also wonder if maybe we’ve seen the guy, or maybe we know something we should tell the police.”

Di left the foot of the bed and came around to Margaret’s other side, effectively directing the girl’s attention away from the boys. “Frankly, I’m in awe that you’re not freaking out! I know I am whenever I’m near danger, which isn’t as often as Honey or Trix, but near enough!”

Margaret frowned. “When are you guys in danger?”

Trixie waved dismissively. “Oh, lots of times. But we can tell you all about that some other day. Right now, we want to hear about your experience.”

“Oh, all right,” Margaret sighed. “I was walking along this likely-looking path through the woods round about sunset when-“

“Hold on,” Brian interrupted. “What were you doing wandering around the woods alone, especially at night?”

“I just was!” She glared at him, then focused on Di. “Anyway, I was going up this trail and it turned and went over this sort of rise. When I came into this sort of clearing, where the trail intersected with a larger one, I stopped. I wasn’t sure which way to go at first, then some guy came running up behind me and grabbed me.” She wrapped her right arm across her chest and her left around her neck to demonstrate. “He growled in my ear that he had a knife and he would use it if I gave him any trouble.”

Di’s eyes grew even wider. “Did you scream?”

Margaret frowned in thought. “I think so. I’m not sure. I may have yelped a little. He told me to be quiet, so I must have said something. Anyway, he pushed me forward and off the trail. I kind of collapsed a little, and that’s when he sort of stood on top of me, but crouching down, you know?” She checked to be sure Trixie and Honey were following her, then she continued.

“He sort of pushed me over onto my face and got on top of me. I thought for sure he was going to, well, you can imagine what I thought! That’s when he started pulling my coat off me. I didn’t struggle. I wasn’t sure what to try to do, but I didn’t struggle. I didn’t help him, either, and he got kind of frustrated with me. He grabbed my knapsack and threw it into the bushes. He got my coat off me and pushed up my sweater.” She sighed, frowning in concentration. “It’s hard to explain. He pulled me up to take my arm out of my sleeve, then let me fall again as he pulled the coat off. Then he pulled me up to push up my sweater, but the neck is really tight, so it got stuck. That’s when he got out his knife.”

By this time, Trixie and Honey had edged onto the bed, their expressions perfect duplicates of Di’s: wide-eyed concern, sympathy and interest. Meanwhile, Jim, Brian and Mart were also listening intently, but carefully keeping themselves as unobtrusive as possible. They realized what Di had somehow been able to do: get Margaret to forget about their presence long enough to start relating her misadventure.

A distant page sounded from the hallway and an orderly passed by with a mop and bucket, but otherwise, the only sound was Margaret’s calm voice as she meticulously related the events of the previous evening. “I don’t know where he was keeping the knife, but suddenly I felt something cold against my skin and heard the sweater ripping and then the sweater was the only thing between me and the ground. You know, I hate the smell of wet wool. Anyway, I felt him lay down on top of me. He was breathing real hard and grunting. I asked him to please not hurt me. I wasn’t going to scream, I told him, and he could have all my money, if he just promised not to hurt me.”

Margaret laughed dryly. “He said something about not hurting me, but making me feel ‘real nice’ instead. That’s when he, um, flipped me over and yanked off my bra. He must have cut that off, too. I remember starting to panic, and struggling with him, and him slugging me with his fist.” She indicated her right cheek. “He, um, unzipped my jeans and – and undid his pants and lay down on top of me.” She shuddered involuntarily, her throat closing with remembered fear.

Di had laid her hand on top of Margaret’s left hand, while Trixie patted her right. Honey smiled encouragingly and murmured softly, “You’re safe now. It’s all right.”

Margaret fought the fresh wave of tears in her eyes, but her voice didn’t break. “He started kissing me. Well, parts of me, anyway. He had really horrible cigarette breath. And his hands were all over me, too. I realized he didn’t have the knife anymore, so I started looking for some way to defend myself. I searched the area with my hands for something to use as a weapon – or even the knife itself. I found a rock!” She grinned through her tears. “A really big rock with a sharp point on it. I picked it up and jammed it into his face!”

She gestured with her fist, demonstrating her move on Di, who told her, “Wow! I would never have the presence of mind to do that! What did the creep do then?”

Margaret relapsed into thought. “He screamed at me, and tried to get his knife, but when he got off me to get it, I got up, saw it just lying there and grabbed it first. He cursed at me. His face was really bleeding bad, so he sort of held his hand over the gash and then turned and ran. I grabbed my coat and put it on. The sweater was a complete loss, so I just buttoned the coat and began looking for my knapsack wherever he threw it to. By that time, though, my levels had really dropped. I guess I was overdue for my dinner, or the fight took more out of me than I had figured, because I started feeling it really bad. I stumbled around for a long time. I didn’t even remember why I was out there or what had happened to me. I kind of thought I was back home, and that I could get to a safe place, if I could just find it. Sgt. Molinson told me that the house I was crawling toward had burned down a couple years ago, so even if I had made it, there’s not much it could have done for me. I don’t remember crawling into the bushes to hide. I barely remember some guy coming along and picking me up and carrying me into your house. I guess that was Dan. I’m pretty sure I lost consciousness along the way. The next thing I clearly remember is waking up in the ambulance.”

Silence enveloped the room. Margaret wiped quickly at the corners of her eyes as Trixie, Honey and Di exchanged glances. Jim, Brian and Mart exchanged looks as well. Jim nodded toward the door, and they filed out into the hallway.

Once in the hallway, they saw Dan leaning against the wall just outside the door. The corner of his mouth turned up and he led them toward a waiting area.

“You failed to abandon us to our fate, Dan. My next interrogative concerns wherefore.”

“I had the car, Mart.” Dan replied. “I couldn’t make you all walk home. It’s the middle of winter. Now, if it had been summer, well.” He let the sentence hang and slumped onto a brown sofa. Jim and Brian sprawled across the other two sofas, leaving Mart a small armchair, which he regarded dubiously. Then he sat.

“I didn’t think you’d actually leave us, but I’m glad you stuck around. How much did you hear?” Brian asked.

“Everything. I didn’t go far. Just to the elevator and back.” Dan looked away from the group. “Listen, I’m sorry for getting angry and blowing it like that. I don’t know what I was thinking, yelling at someone so sick.”

Brian looked quizzical. “Sick? She’s recovered from the attack.”

Dan spread his hands in a ‘it’s obvious’ gesture. “She’s got diabetes. She’s always sick.”

Brian leaned forward, elbows on knees. “She’s got a condition. That doesn’t mean she’s ‘always sick.’ Her life is probably just as normal as any of ours.”

Jim chuckled. “Not Trixie’s.”

Brian just gave his red-haired friend a look, but otherwise ignored his comment. “So you heard what happened. I didn’t see the place she was attacked. Does any of it jibe with her story?”

“You mean, does the evidence support her version of events?” Dan thought a moment. “Yeah, I’d have to say it does. I found a rock with blood on it. The ground was pretty well kicked up, and her clothes were torn to shreds. Molinson took it all in as evidence.”

Brian frowned. “But just what was she doing in the woods all alone? She never answered that.”

Mart shook his head. “I can’t imagine. Maybe she’s an adventure-hound like Trixie.”

“She was running away, though,” Jim said. “I doubt it was for the adventure of it. Kids don’t run away from happy homes.” Dan nodded in agreement.

Brian and Mart shared a look, each mentally vowing to be more appreciative of their parents and more cooperative around the house.

“You think she was abused?” Jim asked Dan.

“I don’t know. She looked healthy enough. Her parents clearly take care of her ‘condition,’” he glanced at Brian, “but not all scars are on the outside.”

“That’s for sure.” They all sat quietly in thought for a moment until Jim sighed. “I just realized something.”

Brian looked more interested. “What?” The expression of woe on Jim’s face, however, made him smile.

“We left Trixie in there, alone with Margaret.”

“So?” Dan asked.

“Oh, I know,” Mart groaned. “Detective Trixie is on the case and there have failed to be present more than a nil amount of superior males within a diameter of ten meters capable of either restraining her or redirecting her interest in the current criminal matter!”

“Oh.” Dan glanced down the corridor toward the hospital room. “Here we go again.”

**

“Now that they’ve left,” Trixie began, “you can tell us. What were you doing out there in the woods all alone? And don’t say you were looking for Albany!”

Trixie was so close to her face that Margaret could count her freckles. “What does it matter? My parents are on their way and I’ll be taken back to that place I lately referred to as my home and there’s nothing I can do. Or you, for that matter.”

“But we can help you,” Honey insisted.

“Oh, really?” Margaret scoffed. “Help me? You’re all just a bunch of kids. Like me. It was foolish to think I could do this so soon.”

“Do what?” Trixie nearly put her hands around the girl’s neck to throttle her. “Why won’t you just tell us? You can trust us!”

“Just because you say so, doesn’t mean anything!”

Diana nodded her head emphatically. “Honest! You can! When my uncle was being impersonated, Trixie helped unmask the creep. She helps lots of people! There were those missing kids last summer –“

“And the jewel thieves –“ Honey continued.

“Which ones?” Di grinned. “There was that ghost. And the ghost fish. And the missing emeralds.”

“And the Queen’s necklace. And the smugglers –“

“Which ones?” Di asked again, grinning.

“And the poacher who rode the unicycle, the shark in the Hudson, the fortune buried at Martin’s Marsh –“ Trixie interjected dryly.

“Hold on,” Margaret held up her hands in surrender. “What in Heaven’s name are you all talking about?”

“Just some of Trixie’s successes when she’s helped people.” Di’s violet eyes sparkled with admiration. “She and Honey have helped so many people, I can’t begin to name them all! But I’ll most always be grateful for her help with my phony uncle, because we got to be such good friends!”

“And she got me my brother, Jim. And some of the best, nicest friends in the whole world.” Honey added softly.

“It’s getting a little deep in here,” Trixie said, blushing.

“I was just about to say that myself,” Margaret added dryly. “But if half of what they say is true, maybe you could have helped me earlier. But with my parents coming, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Just then a nurse walked in. “It’s almost the end of Visiting Hours and shouldn’t you Candy Stripers have clocked out by now?”

Trixie and Honey, still in their uniforms, got off the bed and shrugged sheepishly. “We were just visiting Margaret.” Trixie began.

“We were going to leave soon,” Honey added.

“Well, I really just came in to give Margaret a bit of bad news.” She waited for Margaret to ask the others to leave.

“Go ahead. They can hear whatever it is,” Margaret assured her.

“Very well. We just received word that your parents were snowed in. Apparently, some huge blizzard has just struck Nova Scotia and all flights have been cancelled until further notice. I’m afraid there’s no telling when your parents will get here. Is there some relative we can contact to take charge of you?”

Margaret was stunned. The very thing she’d wished for had happened. They weren’t coming. She thought quickly. “No, there’s no one. Will I have to stay here in the hospital? I have my own credit card. I could get a room somewhere.”

The nurse smiled. “No, that would never fly with your doctor. He will only release you to a relative, I’m sure.”

“You mean, you’re just going to keep her here?” Trixie blurted out.

“It’s for her own safety,” the nurse replied.

“Just great,” Margaret muttered.

“Well, what if a responsible adult was to come forward and accept responsibility for her?” Honey asked.

The nurse thought a moment. “I’d have to check with the doctor on-call, but the adult would have to pass muster with Children’s Services. This really falls under their jurisdiction, too.”

“But that won’t happen until Monday!” Di exclaimed. “You’d keep her in here until then?”

“Honey, who were you thinking of?” Trixie asked her friend.

“It’s perfectly perfect!” Honey said, clapping her hands once in excitement. “My father! He’s already adopted one child, so Children’s Services have already checked us all out and approved us. It’s just for a couple of days, so a Social Worker could come and check on us, if necessary. It could even be the one that checks on Jim every so often, to make sure he’s making all his ‘adjustments’ okay. And I’m sure he would approve! He’s home right now. I could call and have this whole thing set up in fifteen minutes!”

The nurse, Di, Trixie and Margaret all stared at Honey. The nurse mused, “I think that could work. Your father is on the board, after all. Let me get the doctor on the phone. You call your parents and make sure it’s okay. We’ll meet back here in ten minutes.”

**

90 minutes later, the BWG club car was pulling up into the Wheeler driveway. Eight teenagers spilled out onto the gravel drive and stretched. Margaret stared up at the three-story brick colonial and grinned. “Somebody say Amen,” she murmured. “This is all too perfect.”


	3. Meeting Old Friends, Making New Enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A skating party goes awry and Trixie starts asking questions.

Moments Later  
Manor House

Light spilled from the Wheeler’s front door as the Wheelers themselves rushed forward to greet their new houseguest.

“You’re back so soon!” Madeline Wheeler exclaimed.

“Welcome to Manor House!” Mathew Wheeler called. “I trust everything went well at the hospital?”

Shrieking as if she’d won the lottery, Margaret raced past the Bob-Whites toward the front porch. When she neared the Wheelers, she leapt into Matt Wheeler’s open arms and shouted, “RED! Oh, my gosh! I had no idea it was you! What a wonderful surprise!”

Laughing, Mathew set her back on her feet. “My dear child, I was hoping you’d be pleased. When my daughter told me your name and filled me in on your little adventure, I had a suspicion it would be you. You’re lucky we know your parents so well, or the hospital was quite prepared to put you into a temporary foster home.”

Madeline gently hugged Margaret. “We were so worried when we heard someone was attacked on our property. But then to know the person involved just makes it all the more troubling! Come inside, sweetie, and tell us all about it. Jim,” she called over her shoulder, “be a dear and get Margie’s luggage, won’t you?” Arm in arm, they entered the warm Wheeler mansion, Matthew directly behind.

“’Be a dear’?” Jim muttered, shaking his head.

“’Red’?” Honey repeated, more than stunned by the turn of events.

“’Margie’?” Dan scowled.

Brian and Mart glanced at each other. Di looked bewildered. “What just happened?” she asked.

“Honey? Why do your parents know Margaret?” Trixie asked, getting to the heart of the matter as usual.

“I don’t know,” Honey replied. “I’ve certainly never met her!”

“You don’t suppose her parents are the Langs, do you?” Jim asked his sister. “I mean, that would fit.”

“Which Langs are the Langs?” Trixie asked. She felt odd, almost bereft. She’d been enjoying the prospect of a new friend and a new mystery. Finding out that the Wheelers knew Margaret, apparently extremely well, bothered her, but she was unable to say why.

Jim replied, “Lang Technologies.”

“If they are those Lang’s,” Honey said to her brother, “why would she want to run away?” Her eyes widened. “Or was she running here?”

Jim shook his head. “I don’t know, but I guess we’ll only find out when we go inside. More than likely, she’s telling Mother and Father all about it.” Taking the car keys from Dan, Jim opened the trunk and retrieved Margaret’s knapsack. Slamming the lid closed, he announced, “I’m going in. It’s been a long day. Anyone up for some skating tomorrow?”

“Sounds good to me,” Brian answered, “except we promised our dad we’d help him mulch the Christmas tree.”

“Gleeps!” Trixie struck her forehead with her hand. “That means I’ve got to un-decorate the stupid thing.”

Diana sighed. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in some company for that? Harrison took our tree down on the twenty-ninth. I miss Christmas already.”

“Sounds great,” Trixie agreed. “Can you come over around eight? That way, the boys can mulch while we check out the ice.”

Honey nodded her head. “That sounds good to me, too. I don’t think I’ll be able to help you, because of Margaret being here, but I’m sure I can convince her to join us. She might fit into my old pair of skates.”

Dan jammed his fists into his jacket pockets. “So we’re meeting around nine? I’ll be there, too. Maypenny’s going to let me sleep in tomorrow.”

Tossing the knapsack over his shoulder, Jim grinned. “What, is Mr. Maypenny going soft on you? I’ll have to have a talk with him about that!”

Dan cast Jim a disgusted look, said, “Whatever. I’m going to say ‘hi’ to Uncle Bill. See you tomorrow,” turned, and practically stomped into the darkness.

His jaw almost banging into his knees, Jim stuttered, “I didn’t mean-I wasn’t trying to-was he really mad? I should go after him.”

Mart shook his head. “No, I think it’s fine. If he says anything to you in the morning, then apologize. But I get the impression something else is on his mind.” He stared into the darkness toward the garage and above it to Regan’s rooms. A light turned on over the door as Regan opened it, admitting his nephew inside. Mart turned. “Hey, Diana. Let me drive you back home. I’ll leave the car in front of the clubhouse for tomorrow.”

Diana quickly hugged Trixie and Honey good night, then cheerfully ordered Mart to start the engine and warm up the car: she was freezing! Mart took the keys from Jim and obeyed her. As Mart carefully turned the car around, Jim headed up the sidewalk to his house. When he disappeared inside the house, Trixie realized that that just left Brian, Honey and herself. Wanting to talk with Honey about Margaret, she looked patiently at her older brother, waiting for him to leave. For some reason, Brian just stared back at her. Why wouldn’t he leave? she wondered impatiently.

“Well, Trixie. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Honey said almost wistfully.

“Sure. You ready, Brian?” Trixie asked.

Brian hesitated. He glanced at the garage. “I think I’ll wait for Dan and find out what’s going on. You go ahead home. Tell Moms I won’t be out late.”

“Okay,” Trixie agreed slowly. “I will.” She waited another moment, but something in the entire situation proved too awkward for her to bear, so she just turned abruptly and started walking home.

Honey shifted nervously on the gravel drive. “What do you think is bugging Dan?” she asked.

Brian shrugged. “I actually have no idea,” he admitted. “I just wanted to say good night to you in private.”

Honey blushed lightly. “Oh. Well, okay.”

“Good night, Honey. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Brian said sincerely. He held out his hand and touched her cheek gently, drawing a finger from her ear almost to her mouth. “Sweet dreams,” he wished her, then turned and followed his sister’s path homeward.

Although the temperature that night was well below freezing, Honey felt quite toasty, despite her unbuttoned parka and her fashionable boots. In fact, she scarcely noticed her boots, since she floated all the way inside.

**

“So, did you or Maypenny find anything today in the Preserve?” Dan and his uncle sat in the kitchenette portion of the room above the Wheeler’s garage. The tiny apartment, perfect for a single person, seemed crowded with the two of them. They sat at the two-person dinette, sharing a pot of decaf. From his chair, Dan could see the neat-as-a-pin living room that made the bulk of the living space.

“What makes you think we were looking?” Regan asked. Dan just gave his uncle an ‘I know you better than that’ look. Regan relented. “No. We didn’t find anything new. We searched through that campsite you found, though. Anything useful’s pretty much been lost thanks to Mother Nature’s minions.”

Dan nodded, sipping at a mug of his uncle’s coffee. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about it. I’m not sure that that is my old gang out there.”

Regan frowned. “Why not? From what you told me, whoever it was clearly came from the city.”

“Yeah, but so did Margaret Lang.” Dan launched into a brief retelling of the evening’s events, finishing with, “so she could have been the one camping in the woods.”

“I don’t think so. If she is one of those Langs, then I doubt she’s the ‘camping under the stars’ type.”

Dan looked up in surprise. “You know the Langs?”

“Sure, I do. I almost went to work for them.” He refilled his own mug and returned to the dinette. His long legs stretched into the middle of the kitchen. He took a quick sip of the steaming brew, then explained. “The guy I worked for when I left Saratoga was selling all his horses and moving to California. He knew I was looking for a new job, so he recommended me to some of his wealthier friends. I interviewed with Matt Wheeler the day before Victor Lang came to see me, so I was already thinking about coming here, but when I met Mr. Lang, I knew I would never be happy working for him.”

Intrigued, Dan leaned forward. “Why not?”

Regan frowned, remembering. “I’m not sure. I had a sort of feeling about him. I didn’t like the way he talked about his horses. Like they were things. Possessions. Equipment. He said something about replacing his previous groom because he didn’t keep ‘the stock’ in good condition. That was how he put it. ‘The stock’. He also felt horses were interchangeable. Whenever one got injured or sick, he sold it and got another one. When he talked more about the condition of the horses, I knew without him saying so exactly who was responsible for their injuries and illnesses: the Langs themselves.” He finished off his coffee and got up to rinse out the mug and leave it in the sink.

Dan rose to do the same. “How do you mean? They neglected them?”

“Kind of,” Regan replied. He began to disassemble the coffeemaker and clean it. “In a way. They rode them too hard. They rode them at all hours of the day and night. They interfered with the horse’s routines. I knew I couldn’t work for a family who took so little notice of animals and their needs.” He leaned against the counter, drying the carafe. “I also didn’t like the way the man flaunted his wealth. And he was very, very wealthy. He seemed to take it as a personal insult when I told him I was going to take the position with the Wheelers. He didn’t like it at all.”

“Interesting. I think their daughter has inherited that same attitude. What is it about the rich?” Dan wondered.

Regan chuckled. “Come on, now. Some of your best friends are rich.” He reassembled the clean coffeemaker and set it up for the next morning.

“I know. I just can’t take the attitude sometimes.”

“Did something happen?”

Dan waved away his uncle’s concern. “No, no. Not really. Jim made a joke but I didn’t take it well. It’s not important. I’m just tired and it’s getting late. I’d better get back home.”

“You know you’re welcome to stay here,” Regan offered.

Dan looked around the efficiency apartment. “And sleep where? With you? Uh-uh. People will talk.”

Regan laughed. “Oh, all right. You can have the sofa-bed. I’ll be generous and take the floor.”

“Ha! I’d rather go back to sleeping on the street. It’s a lot more comfortable than that instrument of torture,” Dan grinned in return. “Still, I’d better get back. I’ve got some things to do tomorrow before I meet everyone to go skating.”

Regan bid his nephew good night and watched him walk into the inky woods towards Maypenny’s cabin. A stab of worry struck and he wondered where the mysterious campers were, and if they were watching for Dan, perhaps laying in wait for him. He shook his head. No. Thinking that way was foolish. Stupid. Senseless. Dan could take care of himself, after all, and if not, he knew those woods now better than any thug from the city.

Satisfied with this realization, Regan quickly pulled out his bed from the sofa and grabbed his quilt from the closet. Slipping out of his jeans and T-shirt, he scrambled under the blanket and shut off the light. Within moments, he was fast asleep.

**

The next morning came too early for Trixie’s satisfaction. Breakfast flew by in a blur and, before Trixie had even finished dressing, Diana arrived on the doorstep, ready to be put to work.

“I appreciate you letting me help Trixie, Mrs. Belden,” Diana said. “I kind of miss not being able to un-decorate my own house.”

Mrs. Belden smiled. “Don’t think twice about it, Diana. It’s always nice to see you.” She looked quickly down the hall, then leaned conspiratorially close to the younger girl. “Mart is in the kitchen, doing the dishes. Why don’t you go in and say hello?”

Diana blushed prettily, bowed her head and stepped quickly down the hall. Helen giggled, thinking to herself, I really ought to be ashamed of myself, meddling in Mart’s love life, but I can’t help it! They’re just so cute together! Hearing footsteps rushing upstairs, she called, “Trixie! Diana’s here!”

“Coming, Moms!” Trixie called back.

Instead of her daughter, however, an extremely animated Bobby Belden rushed downstairs. “Did she bring Terry and Larry?” he asked.

“No, I’m afraid not. Perhaps they’ll call and you can go play later on, okay? Remember, you have to clean up your room today and I expect you to make your own bed.” Helen smiled at her youngest child.

Bobby puffed out his lower lip and sat on a step. “I never get to have any fun!”

“Trust me, Bobby,” Trixie huffed as she hurried down the stairs, avoiding her younger brother, “it doesn’t get any better as you get older, so you’d better enjoy it while it lasts!”

“You’re impossible,” Helen laughed. “Diana’s in the kitchen waiting for you. Brian has already brought down the ornament boxes and the ladder. Do be careful when you take down the mistletoe, okay?” She started up the stairs. “Remember, the sooner you start –“

“The sooner I finish. I know,” Trixie grumbled, and set out toward the kitchen. Once there, she found a strange, but not too unexpected sight. A short stack of dirty breakfast dishes sat on one side of the sink while the drying rack stood just half full of clean plates. A clear stream of fresh water poured from the faucet into the soapy water side of the sink, causing huge bubbles to spill over the counter and down the cabinets onto the floor. Her brother Mart, the orchestrator of the chaos, had, she supposed, a good reason to ignore the overflowing sink.

He was way too busy kissing Diana good morning.

“Mart!” Trixie couldn’t help but shriek angrily. She rushed forward, bumping into Mart and Diana, and shut off the faucet. She stepped back from the sink, careful not to step in the suds piling up on the floor. She turned to stare angrily at her brother.

A hot blush colored the guilty expression on her near-twin’s face. He didn’t look at her or Diana, but just grabbed a dry dish towel and began sopping up the water.

Trixie sneaked a look at Diana, ashamed to see tears glistening in her violet eyes and dots of scarlet on her cheeks that couldn’t be explained by the weather. “Come on,” Trixie began lamely, “let’s get started on the decorations.” She gently tugged on Diana’s elbow, urging the girl to leave Mart to clean up the mess. Just before they passed through the doorway, Trixie glanced back at her brother. He didn’t so much as glance in their direction.

The girls spent a subdued hour removing the Belden family’s Christmas decorations from the living room. Trixie tried her best to keep up a running chatter, but Diana failed to keep up her conversation. Miserable, Trixie didn’t know what to do. If only Honey were here. She’s got tact to spare! This is so awkward. I wish I knew what to say…

They finally sealed the last box of ornaments, when Trixie realized they had forgotten to take down the mistletoe in the front hallway. Dragging the ladder into the foyer, Trixie asked Diana if she could run up to inform her mother they were finished. “The boys are going to take the boxes upstairs later on,” she said. “So if Moms says it’s okay, we can go skating.” Wordlessly, Diana hurried upstairs.

Trixie steadied the ladder under the small chandelier that hung in the center of the foyer. Keeping her eye on the dried clump of medieval aphrodisiac, she climbed the steps. She had just reached the top of the ladder when the front door opened, slamming into the ladder, knocking her off-balance. The ladder tilted, then tipped, sending Trixie onto the hardwood floor.

**

“Trixie? Can you hear me? Are you all right? Trixie? Speak to me!”

The voice sounded very far away, the words almost as if in a foreign language. Trixie saw stars, so she assumed her eyes were open. Why was everything but the stars dark, then? She heard a voice ask, “Is she all right, Brian?”

“If she’d just open her eyes, we’d all know for sure.”

“My eyes are open,” Trixie forced herself to say. She felt strong hands rubbing her wrists, stimulating her circulation. She sensed she had been left on the floor, but now someone had an arm around her and was picking her up. “Where are we going?” she asked.

“Come on, Jim, lay her on the couch.” That was Brian’s voice, she knew. But Jim was here? When? Where? What happened to her?

Whoever carried her laid her gently onto the plush couch, a pillow just below her head. A soft, familiar voice asked, “Trixie? Are you all right?”

Finally, her eyelids began to lift. She frowned at the unwelcome intrusion of light and reality, then smiled to see Jim’s bright green eyes staring down at her. “Hi, Jim. What are you doing here?”

“Nearly killing you, apparently,” he said without humor. “How do you feel?”

She thought about it. “My head hurts. Did I hit it?”

“On the floor. Do you hurt anywhere else?” Jim asked.

Just my heart and my pride, she thought. Aloud, she only said, “No. I think I’ll live.”

“More’s the pity,” Mart cracked, still feeling embarrassed over getting caught kissing.

Brian, unaware of the previous incident, shot him a quelling glare. “She could have been seriously hurt. A few inches to the right and she’d have cracked her head on the oak hall table. At the least, she would have needed stitches.” Mart closed his mouth, but he clearly was unimpressed. “Let me feel your head, Trixie,” Brian suggested.

Jim helped Trixie sit up slowly. Sitting behind her, Brian carefully probed the back of Trixie’s head, feeling a small bump develop. “Does that hurt?” he asked her softly.

Trixie, her fingers comfortably enclosed in Jim’s warm hands, gingerly shook her head. “I’m fine. Thanks, Brian.”

Brian stood. “I hesitate to suggest you go ice skating today, but if you promise no jumps or spins, you should be all right. And if you experience any, and I mean any, changes in your vision, you stop skating immediately and tell someone, okay? That could indicate brain damage.”

“You mean, beyond what’s already been damaged,” Mart cracked again.

Brian caught his brother’s gaze. “Come on, Mart. Let’s go finish cleaning up outside. Now,” he added, before Mart could protest. He grabbed his brother on the shoulder and ushered him to the kitchen and then outside, not giving him any chance to protest.

Trixie glanced around the family room. “Where’s Diana and my parents?”

Sitting next to her legs on the couch, Jim replied, “Your dad’s outside, your mom’s upstairs with Bobby and Diana’s with her. I’m really sorry, Trixie. Your brothers told me just to go inside and get you, so I did. I didn’t know you were right there on the ladder.” His face paled. “When I realized what I’d done, and saw you fall, I – I didn’t know what to do. I just ran over to you and tried to wake you.”

Trixie flushed. “What did I do?”

Miserably, Jim couldn’t look at her. “You just sort of moaned. I ran outside to get Brian. Your dad is all the way in the garage, so he didn’t hear. Your mom came downstairs, but so did Bobby, and he freaked when he saw you lying there. Apparently, he thinks you’re dead, like Margaret. It took your mom and Diana to get him upstairs and calmed down. I think maybe you should go up there and convince him you’re all right.”

Trixie nodded her head. “You’re probably right. The poor kid. He was asleep when we got home last night, so I didn’t get a chance to tell him about Margaret being at the Wheeler’s until this morning at breakfast. I get the impression he doesn’t quite believe she’s okay.”

“Maybe we should take him to the lake today?” Jim offered.

“I’ll ask Moms about it. I’m sure she’ll be happy to get him out of the house for a little while at least.” Trixie swung her legs off the couch and stood up quickly, instantly regretting the swift movement. Jim grabbed her arms and helped steady her. She shot him a grateful grimace and headed off to see Bobby.

Jim watched her leave and felt his adrenaline level drop accordingly. What was he thinking? Just barging into the house like that! He could have killed her! Jim resolved to be more careful. He had to be more careful where Trixie was concerned!

**

Placating her mother’s worries by volunteering to watch Bobby for the rest of the morning and not skate in her usual exuberant manner, Helen Belden agreed to let Trixie go skating with the rest of the Bob-Whites. “As long as you do as Brian suggests and not overexert yourself. And if you keep an eye on that bruise. I’m not entirely convinced it’s not more serious. And don’t skate too fast. Or too long. Or too-“

“I’ll be perfectly fine, Moms! Really,” Trixie interrupted. “Trust me. Both Jim and Brian will be there to watch out for me.” Helen nodded her agreement. Trixie hurried to get her skates and her BWG windbreaker and meet Diana in the farmhouse foyer.

“Are you sure you should be going with us?” Diana asked.

“Not you, too!” Trixie sighed. “I already promised Moms I’d be careful.”

“We all worry about you, Trixie. You take so many risks.”

“I was just getting mistletoe off the chandelier. Harmless, ordinary, everyday mistletoe! What’s the risk in that?” Exasperated, Trixie opened the front door and stepped onto the freshly swept porch.

Diana, following, said, “Well, Mart told me that mistletoe is poisonous, so…”

Trixie couldn’t help it. She had to laugh.

Trixie’s brothers had already begun to mulch the Christmas tree. Trixie could hear them in the garage, the noisy wood-chipper growling and choking on the blue spruce. “What do you do with the mulch?” Diana asked.

Trixie thought a moment before answering. “Well, mostly we’ll put it over Moms’ flower garden in the spring. Mulch prevents the ground from drying out so much when we get droughts. At least, that’s what Mart says about it. This is the first year we’ll be trying this.”

“Well, if Mart says it’ll work, it will. He’s very smart about agriculture,” Diana said with a proud smile.

Trixie glanced at her pretty friend. “You really like my brother, don’t you?” She watched Diana blush, answering her question. “Can I ask why?”

“Ha!” Diana said. “As if you have to ask! He’s your brother! Don’t you know what’s so wonderful about him?”

Did she really want to have this discussion? But, if Diana was offering to explain… “No,” she said honestly. “I don’t know. Tell me.”

Flustered, Diana spread her hands and shrugged. “Okay. He’s smart. He’s funny. He’s really cute, even if he cuts his hair too short. And, well, he’s a great kisser.”

“Diana!” Trixie shrieked. “You win. I did NOT need to know that!” Horrified at the thought of her brother kissing anyone well, she immediately headed toward the garage. “Let’s get Bobby and go to the lake. Right now. I do not want to talk about this any more!”

With a satisfied grin, Diana hurried after her.

They found Jim questioning Mr. Belden about the operation of the wood chipper, which he’d borrowed from Mr. Maypenny for the day. Trixie interrupted their ‘guy talk’, as she called it, to collect Bobby and head for the lake. Jim accompanied them, ostensibly to watch over Trixie’s health. Brian and Mart agreed to hurry along as soon as they could. Reddy, torn between staying with the men and following his youthful master, ran back and forth between the diverging groups, finally choosing his tail over either option.

“Why didn’t Honey come with you?” Diana asked as Bobby raced on ahead.

Jim sighed. “She’s with Margaret, trying to find some clothes that will fit her without looking too dumpy.”

“Dumpy?” Trixie asked. “What does Honey own that could possibly look dumpy?”

“Well, Honey is pretty tall and thin. Margaret’s pretty short, so… I’m guessing that Honey’s clothes are just too big for her.”

“Is that it?” Trixie asked.

“What do you mean?” Jim said neutrally, ducking under a tree branch, heavily-laden with snow.

Trixie and Diana easily avoided the snowy branch. “It sounds like there’s more you haven’t told us. Like what she told your parents last night about why she was in the woods.”

“Don’t make this a mystery, Trix,” Jim warned.

“I’m not! I’m just asking, is all.”

Jim sighed again. They’d made it to the boathouse and the sundeck. Jim brushed snow off the benches and Diana and Trixie sat down and began to put on their skates. Bobby was already tying his laces. Jim said, “She just told them what she told us in the hospital. Nothing much. She said she was actually trying to go to Jersey, but took the wrong bus and got lost. She said when she realized where she was, she ‘kinda sorta’ started looking for Manor House, hoping to surprise ‘Red’ and ‘Maddie’, but simply got lost. Someone jumped her, she got away, Dan found her, etc. etc. etc.”

“What’s with the ’Red’ and ‘Maddie’?” Diana asked.

“That’s what she calls Mother and Father,” Jim explained.

Diana and Trixie shared a look. Somehow, they couldn’t imagine Honey’s elegant parents responding to such common nicknames. Trixie said, “But, last night she said she didn’t realize that your parents lived in Sleepyside. How could she have been looking for them here if she didn’t know they’d be here?”

Jim shrugged. He’d put his own skates on and was carefully stepping across the rubber safety mats to the lake. “’Red’ didn’t ask.”

“He didn’t ask,” Diana repeated.

“He didn’t ask,” Trixie nodded. “Wonder why.”

“Well,” Diana said, standing up carefully, “when Honey gets here, you can ask.”

**

By the time Honey and Margaret, dressed finally in borrowed clothing, arrived at the lake, the rest of the BWG’s had already taken several turns about the ice. “What took you so long?” Trixie called out to them. “We’ve been here for ages!”

Honey merely smiled and shrugged. “Sorry!”

Trixie skated close to the shore, braking several feet from the bank. She looked closely at her friend, noting the strain around her eyes and mouth. “Is something wrong?” she asked quietly.

Honey just shook her head. “No, everything’s fine.” She glanced sharply to her left, where Margaret stood, staring at the frozen lake. “I can’t wait to get started.”

Margaret stepped carefully onto the boathouse’s sun deck. She made it to one of the built-in benches and sat down stiffly. Honey joined her after a moment. “Okay, Margaret. First thing is to take off your boots and put on the skates. Make sure your heel goes against the back of the skate.”

Margaret followed Honey’s directions slowly and carefully. As Honey demonstrated how to pull the laces tight, how to wrap them around the hooks and indicated the best way to wrap the extra long laces around the boots, Margaret followed suit.

After several moments, Trixie walked off the ice and onto the deck, balancing perfectly on the metal blades. “Something wrong?” she asked.

“Margaret’s never skated before,” Honey supplied.

“You’re kidding.”

“Afraid I might tell you the truth?” Margaret snapped.

Trixie swallowed hard. Why couldn’t she find a way to be nice? “It’s not that. I just assumed that everyone knew how to skate.”

Sitting up straight, Margaret scowled at the lake, then smiled broadly at Trixie. “Well. Just because I’ve never done it before doesn’t mean I don’t know how.”

Trixie automatically returned Margaret’s smile, but something about the way her brown eyes burned cold stuck at her. “Honey’s a good teacher. I’m sure you’ll pick it all up in no time.” She caught Honey’s look, an almost frantic plea for understanding. She nodded, then headed back to the ice.

Finally finished with the skates, Margaret clapped her palms on her knees and took a deep breath. “Okay. What now?”

Honey stood. “You stand up.” She held out her hands to help Margaret balance.

Margaret grabbed Honey’s hands and pulled herself up. She immediately felt her ankles give way, but the stiff leather uprights on the boots forced her to remain standing. She swayed forward, leaning heavily onto Honey. They fought for balance together and found it a moment later.

Margaret was afraid to move. “Okay. I’m standing. Now what?”

Honey took a deep breath. As far as she could tell, Margaret was too terrified to take a step. “You walk out onto the ice. Carefully. Put your weight on only one foot at a time, bending the knee you’re leaning on. Like this.” She demonstrated, walking carefully to the edge of the lake, checking over her shoulder to make sure Margaret followed suit.

As soon as Margaret’s blades met the ice, however, they shot out from under her, landing her on the ice on her butt. Her mouth open comically, Margaret could only declaim, “Oh!”

Honey allowed herself a grin at her houseguest’s expense. “Ice is very slippery. Try not to move your feet unless you plan to move your body.”

“Great advice,” Margaret scowled. “Now help me up.”

Honey skated easily around in front of Margaret and held out her hands, digging the picks of her figure skates into the ice, bracing herself against Margaret’s weight. “One skate and then the other, Margie, and I’ll pull you up.”

Margaret looked angry as Honey pulled her upright. “Don’t call me that.”

Honey’s hazel eyes turned questioning. “Call you what?”

“Margie. I hate that name.” She mimicked, “’My little Margie’. Ick.”

Honey’s hazel eyes turned even more confused. “But my parents call you that and you don’t complain.”

“Yeah? So? Your parents are useful. They can call me anything they want.”

“What’s going on?” Brian hockey-stopped a few feet away, spraying ice chips onto the slushy snow bank.

“I’m teaching Margaret how to skate,” Honey answered.

“Unless you’d rather do it,” Margaret fairly cooed.

Shocked at the blatant flirtation, Honey just stared at the other girl. Brian, however, felt a blush creep up the sides of his neck. “Umm…” he stammered. “I’m sure Honey will be a great teacher. She’s a really good skater. I guess I’ll see you out there, then.” He turned and skated away from them, his skates clicking sharply against the thick ice.

“Is he seeing anyone?” Margaret asked.

Honey could only blink. “Um, no. He’s not. Not that I’ve heard, anyway.”

“He is so handsome. Don’t you think? And unattached to boot. Grrrowl.” Margaret clucked her tongue and stared across the ice as Brian joined in a game of tag with the others.

“I guess so,” Honey managed. She found out last night that Margaret was the equivalent of a high school Junior – Mart & Dan’s age, in fact. She was going to be 17 in February, while Honey would only be turning 16. Brian, on the other hand, was 18 already. The three-year age difference between Honey and her most major crush seemed insurmountable. Why shouldn’t he be more attracted to an older girl?

“Well?” Margaret asked. “What’s the next lesson?”

Recovering her sensibility, Honey began teaching Margaret how to skate. First, she demonstrated how to bend the knee to keep balanced, while turning the other foot out to push off the ice. Then she skated backwards while pulling Margaret, allowing her to get a feel for the ice and attempt a few pushes herself. Steadily, Margaret’s sense of balance improved and she grew sure enough of herself to inquire about the other Bob-Whites, and the little blond demon zipping between and around them.

“That’s Bobby Belden, Mart and Brian and Trixie’s younger brother. He’s real sweet,” Honey said. “You’ll like him.”

“I don’t like little kids.”

“How can you not like little kids?” Honey asked, astonished.

Margaret shrugged. “I guess it’s not really like that, exactly. I should say they don’t like me. I never know what to say to them.”

As if his ears were burning, Bobby skated directly for them, hockey-stopping and shooting ice onto their jeans. “Hey!” Margaret shouted, angry.

“Bobby! That’s not nice!” Trixie scolded her brother, skating to join them.

Bobby’s big blue eyes filled with dismay. “I’m sorry, Trixie. I just wanted to say hello and see if the strange girl was all right. I didn’t mean anything. Honest!”

Trixie relented, as she always did, at Bobby’s apologies. “It’s okay, sweetie. But you shouldn’t shoot ice at girls. It isn’t nice.”

Margaret, stung by Bobby’s tag of her as ‘the strange girl’, decided then and there her next project was to make the skating cherub her friend. Other girls knew how to befriend children, she thought, how hard could it be? “You can shoot ice at me if you show me how to do it, too.”

Bobby laughed. “Girls don’t shoot ice!” Cackling gaily, he skated away from the group.

Well, that was that. Nice try, Lang. Trying not to show her disappointment, she turned to Honey. “See? Kids don’t like me.”

Honey had no reply. Trixie, feeling out of her depth, just let Honey resume the skating lesson on her own and returned to the game of tag.

Mart was ‘It’, and he seemed determined to get Brian, so Dan had an opportunity to question Trixie. “What’s Margaret like? Has she said anything more about the incident?”

“No,” Trixie shook her head. “Not a peep. It’s just so mysterious that she knows the Wheelers, but that she’s never been to Sleepyside before. And if she were looking for Manor House, why would she have been in that part of the woods? You can easily see the house from the street since it’s so high up on the hill and it’s winter. Plus there’s the sign on the mailbox.”

Dan sighed. “It is mysterious. She still won’t say why she’s hiking around the Catskills in the middle of winter?”

“She’s looking for Albany. Like it floated down river or something.” Trixie snickered.

“You don’t believe her?” Amusement flickered in his dark eyes.

“Not a bit! To tell you the truth, I’m not even sure she’s Margaret Lang.”

Overhearing that bit of conversation, Jim skated closer. “Well, I can tell you: she is. Mother and Father were all over her last night and this morning.”

“Define ‘all over her’,” Trixie requested.

Jim shrugged. “It was all, ‘Margie, are you warm enough’, ‘Margie, are you cool enough’, ‘Margie, did you sleep long enough’, ‘Margie, did you oversleep’. It was almost sickening.”

Thunderstruck, Trixie laid her hand on her heart. “Do my ears deceive me? Jim Wheeler is actually admitting to having less-than-charitable feelings toward a guest in his very own home?”

Jim’s face flushed scarlet. “Never mind,” he grumbled and turned away.

“No! No,” Trixie hastened to explain. “I don’t mean to tease! I just thought it kind of funny to hear you go on about it. I mean, you didn’t mention any of this earlier.” From the corner of her eye, Trixie saw Honey and Margaret, still skating slowly around the edge of the lake.

Jim sighed. “I know. I try to be nice to people because I remember a time when no one was nice to me. I remember how that felt.”

Dan laughed. “Tell me about it. It’s real hard to figure out where you belong in a –oh, what did Mr. Santelli call it? An ‘established social system’.”

Jim nodded. “Santelli’s a good teacher. I had him for Psychology, too.”

Chagrined to remember that she was the main culprit in making life difficult for Dan when he first arrived in Sleepyside, Trixie resolved to be nicer to Margaret. Still, she felt she needed to explain her earlier remark. “I only meant she doesn’t ‘look’ like a Margaret. And have you noticed that every time you call her that, she kind of flinches and looks away?”

Seriously, Jim stared at her. “Trixie, I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, I’d have to agree with Jim. Of course, I haven’t been around her near as much as you two, but she seems to answer when you call her, so….” Dan shrugged.

At that moment, Mart’s triumphant cry echoed across the lake. “You are IT, Brian! IT! IT! IT!” Mart hurried to the center of the ice, crowing at the top of his lungs. Almost simultaneously, Diana’s laughter turned to a shriek as Brian easily caught up with her, making her ‘It’.

The game of tag continued for another hour, interrupted by several time-outs to retie skates and demonstrate tricks. Eventually, they had crisscrossed the entire lake. By the time the game ended, Margaret, who did not play or join in the showing-off, could skate on her own. “I want to try backwards now,” she announced as the games wound down.

“Bad idea!” Mart panted, exhausted from trying to keep up with Dan and Brian. “Sorry, but there’s too much ice chopped up. You’d be sure to fall and then probably cut yourself.” Margaret scowled angrily. Mart lifted his hands as a mock shield and yelped, “hey! She’s blasting me with her x-ray vision!”

“Ugh!” Margaret grunted. “Superman uses heat vision to burn things. X-ray vision is just for looking through things. Get it right, will you?”

Eight pairs of stunned eyes stared at her. Bobby was the first to speak. “Mart? Why is Margie mad at you?”

“For heaven’s sake! Stop calling me that! My name is not Margie! Can’t any of you get that straight?” Flushed red with anger, Margaret turned and tried to skate directly to the shoreline, but her skate tips caught in a divot in the ice and she went down, hard, on her knees and hands and stomach, her momentum shooting her across a thin layer of melted ice about twenty feet away from the group. It was a spectacular slide.

As Margaret slid, however, the ice cut into her palms. She instinctively curled into a ball as she coasted to a stop. She looked at her hands, trembling with the cold, red with friction burns and cursed. Loudly. Profanely. Her curse word of choice echoed across the ice and rebounded on the tree line beyond the shore. She sat upright and stared at her hands. She was bleeding. She cursed again, still loudly, just as profanely. Tears stung her eyes and she tucked her hands under her armpits. Ice water soaked into the seat of her jeans and froze into chips in her borrowed sweater. She was now cold, wet, bleeding and utterly, utterly miserable.

Almost silently, Brian skated over to her. He knelt beside her and gently tugged her hands out so he could inspect them. He took in the inflamed flesh, the long scrapes and the beading blood. He brushed off the remaining ice. “You’ll be fine,” he told her, then looked into her face. He easily read the anguish and misery on Margaret’s face and somehow knew it wasn’t from embarrassment, although she was clearly embarrassed. There was something more bothering her, and instincts told him it had to do with people calling her ‘Margie’, but for the life of him, he couldn’t understand why. “Help you up?” Brian asked.

Dan skated around behind her and, without preamble, slipped his hands under her arms and lifted her easily.

Margaret avoided their eyes, feeling tears slide down her cheeks. Concentrating on regaining her balance, she allowed herself to ignore the slow arrival of the others. Honey skated next to her and, slipping her arm around her shoulders, said softly, “Lean on me if you like. I’ll help you off the ice.” Margaret sniffled, allowing Honey to tow her.

When Trixie saw Margaret flying across the ice, her first impulse was to burst out laughing. It was just such a comical conclusion to a rather dramatic episode, she thought. But when Margaret cursed, automatically Trixie’s hands covered Bobby’s ears in a vain attempt to keep him from hearing it, or the phrase that followed. Now that Margaret was standing, and Brian, Dan and Honey were helping the girl off the ice, she let Bobby’s ears alone. “Stay with me, Bobby,” Trixie ordered softly, perfectly willing to let others deal with the situation.

Mart, first astonished at Margaret’s angry attack and then amused to see her pride had literally gone before her fall, followed the group off the ice. Trixie took Bobby’s hand and towed him toward the shoreline where the Beldens had left their boots earlier. Jim skated slowly after them, staring at the ice where Margaret had fallen. He caught up with Trixie a little distance away from the others.

“She must have hurt herself badly,” Jim told her.

“Oh?” Trixie glanced up at the handsome redhead. “It seemed more like she just got the wind knocked out of her.” She focused on getting Bobby’s skates off his feet and then his feet into his snow boots.

“There’s blood on the ice.”

Trixie’s head snapped up in surprise. “She really cut herself? Wow.” She looked to see if Bobby were paying attention to the conversation. Instead, he seemed preoccupied with scraping the ice off his skate blades.

“Something’s bothering her,” Jim whispered tersely.

“No kidding,” Trixie said, just as terse.

“You think we should call a meeting about it?”

“Sure. This afternoon all right?”

Jim nodded. “I’ll tell the others.” Walking steadily on the deck, Jim joined the rest of the Bob-Whites and Margaret.

The red-haired girl sat on the bench, surrounded by Di and Honey on either side, Brian kneeling in front of her and Dan and Mart standing guard behind her. She was crying, almost uncontrollably, as Brian removed her skates and tried to calm her down.

“Shhh,” he was saying, “it’s all right. You’ll be fine. You’re off the ice now.”

Margaret kept shaking her head and muttering. Honey patted her on the shoulder and told her, “Don’t worry. Your parents will be here soon and then everything will be fine.”

At that, Margaret jerked violently away from the dark blonde girl. “No! Nothing will be fine when they get here. Don’t you see?”

Helplessly, Honey turned her hazel eyes to her adopted brother. “Jim? Maybe you can help?”

Jim knelt beside Brian. Reaching under the bench, he got Margaret’s shoes and helped Brian put them on her socked feet. “Why did you run away, Margaret? What did your parents do?”

Still sobbing, Margaret could only speak in quick bursts of breath. “I’m not – Margaret. How – many times – do I have to – to tell you?”

Trixie sent Bobby to play in the softer snow beyond the boathouse and eagerly joined the group huddled around Margaret. She knew the girl was on her way to revealing her secrets and she was determined to hear them firsthand. As unobtrusively as possible, she moved to stand next to Dan, behind the bench.

Jim answered Margaret’s almost unintelligible question. “But of course you’re Margaret. It says so on your driver’s license and your library card and your American Express. If you’re not Margaret, then who is?”

Bleary eyes met Jim’s. Margaret shook her head. “I don’t think she exists.” Her brown eyes fluttered and her head drooped. Her hands in Di’s began to tremble.

“Uh, Brian? I think something’s wrong with her,” Di said, worriedly.

Brian felt Margaret’s pulse and lifted an eyelid to check her pupils. “I think you’re right. Does anyone have anything to eat? A candy bar or something chocolate?”

They glanced at each other, patting their jacket pockets and grimacing. “No, nothing,” Mart said. “Does anyone know if there’s something in the boathouse icebox?”

Trixie snapped her fingers. “Bobby! He’s got some cookies in his jacket. I saw him eating one earlier. I’ll get them.” She hurried after her little brother. She returned a moment later with two crumbly chocolate chip cookies, proudly held aloft in her hands. “He always sneaks sweets.” She handed the cookies to Brian, who promptly broke off a piece and held it to Margaret’s lips.

“Brian? What’s wrong with her?” Honey asked.

“I think her blood sugar’s dropping. The cookie should bring her level up enough to get her back to the house for something to eat.” Brian didn’t have any luck just giving her the cookie, though. She kept turning her head away from him. “She didn’t bring her medication with her, did she?”

Honey shook her head. “No. Is she going to be all right?” A tear escaped her eye and she wiped it hurriedly off her cheek in an effort to appear brave and responsible.

“She’ll be fine if I can just get her to have some of this cookie.” Growing more irritated, Brian finally just shoved the cookie chunk between Margaret’s teeth. Remarkably, she began to chew and swallow, then hold her mouth open for more. Brian fed her the rest of the cookies until the glassy look retreated from her eyes and she stopped crying. “Margaret? Do you understand me? We’re going to go back up the hill to the house and get you something to eat, okay?”

Looking at him through narrowed eyes, Margaret told him, “I’m not a child nor am I an invalid. I just have a medical condition. I don’t need your patronizing attitude nor do I need your help in getting back to the house.”

“Yes, you do,” Dan corrected her. “Had Brian not given you that cookie, you’d probably be passed out by now, on your way to a coma. That what you want?”

Margaret didn’t look behind her to see him, but she glared all the same. She seethed with impotent fury, her lips compressed tightly to prevent herself from unleashing her rage. She noticed her feet were back in her shoes, the laces left untied. She bent over to tie them, pointedly ignoring Jim’s attempt to tie them for her. “I can tie my own laces,” she said. “I learned when I was three.”

“Whatever,” Jim said, standing abruptly. “Then you can get up the hill by yourself, too. But I kind of doubt it. When you’re ready to accept some assistance, let us know. We’d be glad to help you. Guys?” Jim glanced at each of the Bob-Whites in turn, warning them with his eyes to leave Margaret alone. As one, they all backed away from the bench and began to remove their own skates and slip on their boots.

Margaret kept her eyes downcast, Trixie noticed. Clearly, something was seriously bothering her. What did she mean, ‘Margaret doesn’t exist’? She must be Margaret, since it was clearly her picture on her license. And she admitted to as much yesterday in the hospital. What was going on? And who attacked her in the woods? Someone who looked like Dan. That could be anyone. What if it were someone from school? Someone she knew, even? It was a mystery all right, and Trixie itched to solve it.

The Bob-Whites finished tying up their skates and stood, prepared to leave the lake. Margaret hadn’t moved. Helplessly, wordlessly, Honey pleaded for an idea how to proceed with her houseguest. She caught Jim’s resolute expression as he passed her. “Coming, Honey?” he said.

“Sure,” she answered reluctantly, and turned to follow him off the deck and toward the driveway.

One by one, the rest of the Bob-Whites followed, except Trixie and Dan. Trixie saw Bobby building a snow fort several yards away. She glanced up at Dan. “How about you?” she asked.

“I’ll be along. Lunch at the Wheeler’s, right?”

“Right. We’re meeting up as soon as we get our skates back in the clubhouse and I bring Bobby home,” she said. She didn’t want to leave Margaret alone with just Dan. She didn’t know if he’d be able to get more information out of her or not, and if he did, she wasn’t sure he could be trusted to let her in on any interesting information. Fighting her snooping instincts, Trixie decided she had better get Bobby and just go home.

Dan watched Trixie leave. Margaret still sat staring at the lake. He saw her breath puff into the air and crystallize into huge clouds. Just standing without moving, however, allowed the cold to penetrate to his bones. He bounced lightly on his feet, trying to get his blood moving. He figured, he could outlast Margaret’s stubbornness. Couldn’t he? Eventually, she would have to try and make it up the Wheeler’s hill, right? And she would see that she needed help, wouldn’t she? And he’d be there to give her that help, right?

Ten minutes passed.

Fifteen minutes passed.

Dan grew worried. When would he know if something more serious was wrong with Margaret? Brian seemed to know with just a touch if she was sick or not. Dan wondered if he could run up the snowy hill and return with her medicine before she went into shock. Just how long did that take, anyway?

Suddenly, Margaret said, “Are you really just going to stand there all day?”

Startled, it took Dan a moment to make a reply. “If I have to,” he said finally.

She shook her head in disbelief. “So, you have no life?”

“I have a life. Mostly it’s about helping people, now.”

“What was it about before?”

Dan shrugged. “Hurting people.”

“Huh?” She turned her head to the side, interested. He stood directly behind her, so she still couldn’t see him directly.

“Just what I said. I used to hurt people. I ended up hurting myself, though, in the end.”

Margaret leaned back against the bench. “You mean like, you were a bully?”

Dan smiled humorlessly. “Not exactly. I was in a gang.”

“A gang,” she repeated. “What kind of gang? Because, I noticed you all keep wearing the same jackets. Aren’t you a member of a gang now?”

“No,” he said bluntly. “It’s a semi-secret organization.”

She nodded. “So what does ‘BWG’ stand for?”

“That’s the secret part.”

Now she did twist in the bench to look at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

Straight-faced, Dan said, “Nope.”

She looked him up and down. “When were you ever in a gang? I bet you’ve never done anything illegal in your life.”

Now Dan had to laugh. “Actually, I’ll be on probation until I’m eighteen.”

Her eyebrows rose sharply. “Probation? You mean like, real, get-out-of-jail-and-you’re-on-probation probation? Whatever for?”

“I told you already. For hurting people. And, yeah. It was either probation here or Juvie Hall. Which would you have picked?”

She thought about it. Shrugging, she said, “Freedom, I guess.”

He sighed. “Well, there’s freedom and then there’s freedom. I’m out here, but I can’t leave the county without my Probation Officer’s okay or I’ll violate my terms. Travel restrictions bite, you know?”

“All restrictions bite.” She twisted completely around on the bench to face him more comfortably. She took a good long look, pleased to realize that Dan, standing straight and tall, his dark hair blowing gently in the icy breeze, his cheeks ruddy with cold, resembled nothing so much as a modern-day Heathcliff. “So, tell me about this gang you were in.”

Staring over Margaret’s head across the lake, Dan thought he detected movement in the far trees. He waited, but the movement was not repeated. Something told him, however, that it wasn’t a deer. “I’ll tell you on the way up to Manor House.”

“Ick. Do we have to go back?”

“Yeah. We do. Let’s go, okay?” Dan looked at her petulant expression. “Come on. Face it. You can’t out-stubborn me, okay? I come by it naturally and I’ve got it in spades. Besides, that’s the deal. You come up the hill with me and I tell you all about my wicked past.”

“Oooh!” she jumped up off the bench. “It’s wicked? Let’s walk slow!” She followed him off the deck into the snow. She tucked her hand into his arm and grinned excitedly. “Okay. I’m ready. Tell me all about this gang of yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should explain I don't have diabetes, but it runs in my family. The descriptions of diabetic shock are based on hearsay and Dr Google. Also, if you ever get knocked on the head and fall unconscious, go directly to the hospital. Do not pass Go. Trixie is suffering Fictional Head Trauma, where people can just lose consciousness without fear of concussion. This is Not Real Life. If you are using this story to diagnose or treat any medical condition, you should stop right now.


	4. The Plot Thickens! (sort of)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The BWG's and the Wheelers' houseguest spend the afternoon riding horses, eating doughnuts and planning a snowball fight. All does not go as planned.

Trixie arrived at Manor House for lunch as soon as she could. It hadn’t taken as long as she had feared to pass Bobby off on her mother and then scoot up the trail to the mansion. By the time she made it to the front porch, the rest of the Bob-Whites had already gotten warm and cozy inside. Trixie joined them after putting her coat in the hall closet and removing her overshoes. She hurried into the living room and stopped short. “Where’s Dan?” she asked.

Honey glanced at Jim, then said, “He’s still waiting with Margaret.”

Trixie nodded slowly. “So, we’re just going to let them sit out there all day?”

Jim moved to stand near the large stone fireplace. He stared up at an oil painting of Madeline Wheeler and sighed. “No, I guess not for much longer. I didn’t think she’d be this stubborn about it, you know?”

Diana and Mart sat next to each other on the smaller sofa close to the front windows. Mart glanced outside. “I don’t see anyone coming yet. But as long as she’s with Dan, she’ll be okay. Right, Brian?”

Brian shrugged. “I guess so. I only remember what they taught me last summer in that EMT course.”

“Well, you certainly seem to know what you’re doing, anyway,” Honey said loyally.

Brian grinned at her. “That’s what they taught me in that EMT course. No matter what you do, do it with authority.”

Trixie joined in the light laughter that followed. She turned as Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler entered the room. “Hi, Mr. Wheeler. Mrs. Wheeler,” she said. “It’s nice to see you. What’s that in your hands?”

Madeline Wheeler smiled. “It’s an old photo album, from years ago, when Matthew and I socialized more with the Langs. There are several pictures of Margaret here. I thought she might like to see them.”

Honey’s mother looked so worried and fretful to Trixie, however, that she impulsively asked, “Oh! May I have a look, please?”

The older woman smiled and handed the album to Trixie, who immediately began flipping through the pages. "Oh, look, Honey! She’s so cute in this little sailor dress!” They laughed at the photo, then Trixie brought the album to show Diana.

Madeline smiled approvingly, then asked her daughter, “Honey, where’s Margie?”

Honey glanced at Jim, uncertain exactly what to tell her parents. Jim turned and said, before she could speak, “She’s still at the lake. Dan’s with her.”

“That boy is with her?” Madeline turned worried eyes to her husband. “Matthew, is that best?”

Matthew shared his wife’s concern. He slipped his arm about her slender shoulders and said, “Don’t worry, darling. Margie’s just down the hill. She’ll be fine.”

Mart glanced out the window once more. “Hey! Here they come!” He pointed at the figures of two people, one in a bright red jacket, trudging up the snowy drive, arm in arm.

Madeline rushed to the window. “Oh, thank God she’s all right!” she cried. “I was so worried about her!”

Trixie frowned. “What’s to worry about, Mrs. Wheeler? It’s not like Dan would let anything happen to her.”

The older woman turned away from the window and said sadly, “Children, there are things about Margie that you just don’t know.”

“Like what, Mother?” Honey asked.

“Matthew?” Madeline ceded the floor to her husband.

Matthew cleared his throat nervously. “It’s not a big secret, you understand. As you all know already, Margie has diabetes. Now, what that means for her is she’s got a delicate constitution. She has to watch everything she eats and does for her entire life. No slip-ups, no mistakes, nothing.”

“But, sir,” Brian said, “diabetes doesn’t mean she can’t live a fairly normal life.”

Matthew glanced at his wife. “No, not ordinarily. But Margie’s diabetes has been getting worse over the last couple of years, despite all the best doctors and hospitals in the world. Her parents have taken her to Europe several times in efforts to improve her health, but nothing’s worked. Last I heard, they were considering a transplant operation of some kind.”

“You mean, she’s dying?” Honey’s voice quavered and her eyes filled with tears. Even Trixie felt badly for the strange, mean-spirited Margaret Lang.

“Oh, Honey,” Madeline said, crossing the room to enfold her daughter in a warm embrace. “We don’t know for certain. But people do die from diabetes, and it’s likely Margie will, too. Someday. We just hope it’s not anytime soon. When I think of what a happy child she was. Such a delight. And so smart! Seeing her now, well, she’s not the same girl at all.”

Trixie glanced at Jim. He seemed uncomfortable about something. Was he regretting his earlier decision to just leave Margaret by the boathouse, in hopes of teaching her a lesson about asking for help?

From the living room, they all could hear the front door open and Dan and Margaret enter. They were laughing hysterically, stomping their feet free of snow, removing their jackets and setting down their skates.

“I can’t believe you did that! I mean, really! That was really, very cruel!” Margaret said, her laughter echoing in the hallway.

“Come on! He deserved it. What else was I going to do, say it was mine? Not likely!” Dan laughed.

“Guess I should have known better than to think you’d tell a cop the truth! Especially after all you’ve already told me.”

Dan and Margaret turned the corner into the living room, grinning. Margaret said bluntly, “What’s wrong with all of you? Did somebody die or something?”

“I’m sorry if we upset you earlier,” Honey blurted out. “We didn’t mean to get you mad.”

“Um. Okay,” Margaret replied dubiously. She glanced at Madeline and Matthew. “So, when’s lunch? I’m starving.”

“Right away, Margie!” Madeline assured her. “We were just waiting for you.” She stepped forward and tucked her arm in Margaret’s and fairly pulled her across the floor toward the dining room, Matthew following closely behind.

“I guess lunch is ready,” Jim said, and ushered them all into the dining room.

**

“That was delicious, Celia. My compliments to Cook, please.” Madeline Wheeler dabbed her napkin at the corners of her mouth and set it lightly beside her plate.

“Thank you, Ma’am. I’ll pass that along,” Celia said, collecting the lunch plates. “Miss Margaret? Are you finished?” Celia hesitated by Margaret’s chair. The girl had barely finished half her knish and only a quarter of her stew.

Trixie, sitting across from her, observed carefully as Margaret said, “Yes, I’m done. It was good, but I’m just not overly fond of knishes.”

“Margie, dear,” Matthew said, “shouldn’t you be eating more? Your parents will think we’re not taking good care of you here.”

Trixie didn’t miss the fury that suddenly lit Margaret’s brown eyes, nor the effort it seemed to take the girl to force a cheerful smile, look directly at Mr. Wheeler and say, “They know I eat what I can when I can. I’m fine, really. I’m sure I’ll eat more at dinner.”

“You’re just so thin, dear,” Madeline sighed. “We’re concerned about you.”

“I know, Maddie, and I appreciate your concern. But I’m fine. Really.” Margaret returned her attention to her place mat.

The discussion seemed settled for the moment, so Honey asked brightly, changing the subject, “What should we all do now?”

The Bob-Whites glanced at each other. Their usual routine was to go horseback riding after lunch, split up and then meet back after dinner for marshmallow roasting at the lake or for games at the clubhouse or someone’s living room. But now they had to figure in Margaret to those plans.

“If I remember right, you guys keep horses here?” Margaret asked.

“That’s right, dear,” Madeline replied. “The children usually go riding after lunch. Why don’t you go with them?”

Jim and Honey glanced at each other. “Actually, Mother, I’m not sure we have enough horses for everyone.”

Diana said, “Well, if I can swing by my place, I can pick up Sunny, and Mart could ride my dad’s horse. That’s two.”

“And with me on Lady and Trixie on Susie, that will leave Starlight, Strawberry and Jupiter for Jim and Brian and Margie. I mean, Margaret. Plus Dan already has Cranberry here. We’ll be fine,” Honey said. “Margaret, Strawberry is really gentle. Or you could ride Lady, if you prefer. She’s Mother’s horse and very quiet.”

“No, thanks,” Margaret replied. “Red, if I remember right, you once told me about your horse and how you weren’t sure I’d be able to handle him. I’d sure like to try, now that I have the opportunity.”

Trixie waited to hear Mr. Wheeler laugh disbelievingly, deny her request or order her to remain behind. Wasn’t Margaret in ‘delicate health’? How could she hope to handle Jupiter, known for being difficult to control? Instead, the man nodded thoughtfully. “You know,” he said, “this is the perfect time. Let’s all go to the stables and see how you do!”

**

In the stables, Trixie hurried to saddle Susie. She whispered loudly to Honey, saddling Lady in the next stall. “Do you think he’ll allow it?”

“I don’t know,” Honey whispered back. “He’s so protective.”

“And he’s got such a temper,” Mart, added, overhearing. “I can’t hang around to see what happens. I’m taking Diana to pick up Sunny. It’ll be interesting to see what ‘Margie’ ends up riding, will it not?” Mart went outside to where Diana waited.

Trixie led Susie out of her stall into the main walkway of the stables. She met Honey with Lady and they led the horses slowly toward the center of the stables, where a battle of wills was being waged.

“I’m telling you, Regan,” Matthew said tightly, “this girl knows how to ride. She’s got ribbons and trophies up the -, well, she’s got walls full!” The two men stood a few feet apart, Regan holding the reins to Jupiter, a huge black horse and one of the subjects of discussion.

Regan stared evenly at his boss. “That’s nice, Mr. Wheeler, but that doesn’t mean a thing to me. She got those ribbons on her own horse. A horse that knew her and understood her. We’ve discussed Jupiter before. He needs a rider who can handle him properly. Not bully him and not be afraid of him, either. Can you honestly say this Lang girl can do that?”

“That’s what we’re aiming to find out.” Margaret entered the stables then. She’d taken the time to change into her own jeans and an old pair of Honey’s riding boots before joining the others.

Trixie watched as Margaret strode confidently into the room and stood in front of Mr. Wheeler, facing the groom. “Now,” she said, “you are…”

“Call me Regan,” he said, holding out his hand.

Margaret glanced at it, hesitated, then lightly shook his hand. “I’m Margaret Lang. This is Jupiter, I presume?” She nodded at the horse.

Mr. Wheeler took hold of the reins a few inches above Regan’s grip. “Yes, it is, Margie. You can ride him just as soon as Regan okays it.”

“Excuse me?” Margaret glanced up at Mr. Wheeler. “It’s under his say-so? I thought it was your horse.”

Trixie glanced sideways at Honey. She sensed Brian, Dan and Jim nearby, also hanging on every word. What would Regan, known for his temper where the horses were concerned, do now? What would Mr. Wheeler say next?

Mr. Wheeler didn’t let go of the reins. His smile was friendly, but a warning light entered his eyes as he spoke calmly to his employee. “Regan, let her ride the horse.”

Regan regarded Margaret. She stared up at him defiantly, almost daring him to turn her down. He looked up and down her, trying to judge her horse-sense. She was smaller than he would have preferred. Jupiter was probably too big an animal for her to ride comfortably. A pony would be too big for her, he thought wryly. She had attitude, however, but there was something else in her eyes, something beyond the attitude and the condescension. “Sorry, Mr. Wheeler,” Regan said. “But I have final say over the horses. I’ve only got a snaffle on Jupiter and I’d rather get a better sense of her skill before allowing her out there.”

“Better sense-!” Margaret sputtered, her hands on her hips.

Regan just gave her a baleful glare, then continued speaking to Mr. Wheeler. “Besides, I doubt she’s got enough strength in her wrists to handle him.”

Margaret nearly shrieked. “What a load of sexist nonsense! It’s because I’m a girl, isn’t it! You think I can’t handle him because I’m female!”

Trixie stared as Margaret got as much in Regan’s face as her slight frame allowed. Regan just stood straighter, his mouth flattened into a grim line. Even the horses seemed to be paying strict attention to the unfolding drama.

Mr. Wheeler said quietly, “Now, Margie, I’m sure Regan’s reasons are well considered and correct.” He gestured behind him, still meeting the groom’s eyes. “Why don’t you ride Starlight, dear? He’s an excellent mount and it’ll give Regan the chance to judge your skill.” He jerked his head in the direction of his son and the horse in question.

Trixie hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until it all whooshed out of her. She watched Margaret step back from Regan and look up at Mr. Wheeler, ready to argue again. Instead, however, she just clamped her mouth closed, pivoted on her heel and headed straight for Jim and Starlight. She practically snatched the reins from Jim’s grasp and yanked hard, leading the horse outside.

“Well!” Matthew clapped his hands together in an attempt to destroy the tension. “Why don’t you kids get started, then?”

Trixie and Honey, leading their horses, proceeded into the yard. Margaret had been resting her cheek on Starlight’s nose and stroking the animal’s neck. When she saw the girls had joined her, she moved to the side to mount up. Pointedly ignoring her, Trixie easily climbed into Susie’s saddle and settled herself in place. She tried to hide a grin and not be obvious about taking notice of Margaret realizing she couldn’t quite get her foot into Starlight’s stirrup. She was an inch too short.

Still holding Starlight’s reins, Margaret glanced around the stable yard, then lead the horse close to the fence. Holding the reins, she climbed up the fence until she was high enough to climb comfortably into the saddle. A wave of smug superiority washed over Trixie. At least she’d never needed help to get in the saddle!

As Trixie watched Margaret on Starlight, however, her smug superiority faded, replaced by admiration and jealousy. Margaret easily adjusted the stirrups, until her legs hung almost straight along Starlight’s sides. She seemed to sit closer to the horse than Trixie thought was possible. Margaret then let out the reins and allowed Starlight to walk slowly around the snowy yard, turning him left and then right.

“What is she doing?” Trixie whispered to Honey.

“Testing him out,” Honey replied. “I guess.”

Trixie nodded. As Margaret urged Starlight into the main corral, Trixie caught a glimpse of the expression on everyone’s faces. Brian, Jim and Dan had expressions composed of equal amounts admiration and envy, with Dan’s leaning more toward the former. Mr. Wheeler looked proud, nudging Regan with an ‘See? I told you so’ smile. Regan…. Regan had the most curious expression on his face. As she tried to decipher it, Honey leaned over and poked her upper arm.

“Hey! What’s that for?” Trixie said.

“Why are you staring at Regan?” Honey whispered, directing Lady closer to Susie so they could talk more privately.

“I’m not! Not really,” Trixie said. “I’ve just never seen him look like that before.”

Now Honey turned to look, but Regan had already returned to the stables. “Look like what?” she asked.

Trixie shrugged. “I don’t know. I was trying to figure it out when you interrupted me.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Honey didn’t look sorry, however. Instead, she gestured to the corral. “Why don’t we go inside and let the horses move around a bit while we’re waiting for Di to get back. Then I can tell you about this morning.”

Eagerly, Trixie complied.

**

“There he is. See him? That’s the lousy bastard who messed me up.”

“Which one? I can’t tell.”

“The dark-haired one. That’s him. We go after him tonight.”

**

“So? Tell me!” Trixie urged. “I’ve been dying of curiosity since this morning.”

“Well,” Honey sighed. “You know I don’t like to gossip, or tell stories about people, but I just don’t know what to do. So I guess I’m asking advice. That’s not gossiping, right?”

Trixie kept Susie at a pace even with Lady’s. As they circled the corral, she could see Margaret putting Starlight through his paces. Dan on Cranberry and Jim on Jupiter hung out in the smaller pasture, doing the same. Brian, Trixie noticed, had returned to the warmth of the stable to await Di and Mart’s return and saddle Strawberry. “That’s right,” she answered Honey, “you’re just asking my advice about your houseguest. There’s nothing strange in that.”

Honey giggled. “Except that you’re always the one coming to me with houseguest problems. Anyway, this is what happened. First, Margaret was late for breakfast, which meant I got a lecture when I dove into the scrambled eggs before ‘our guest’ had even come downstairs. Then, Margaret didn’t eat much at the table and Mother kept plying her with cereal and biscuits and muffins and fruit.” Honey shuddered.

“What’s wrong?” Trixie asked. Honey seemed distressed by something other than her mother’s focus on a teenage girl whom, until the night before, Honey hadn’t even known her mother knew, much less knew well.

“Well,” Honey sighed, “nothing, really. Except that I remember when Mother used to treat me like that, on those few occasions when I was home sick and they were there, too, and we’d have breakfast together. I used to like all their fuss, because it meant I got their attention. Seeing Margaret, though, I know how I must have looked then.”

“How?”

Honey frowned, trying to put her thoughts into words. “I don’t know. Trapped, I think. Anyway, it all just got worse after that. Mother had to oversee Margaret’s bath and her dressing and- what’s so funny?”

Trixie had burst out laughing at the thought of the elegant Mrs. Wheeler overseeing anyone’s bath. “Listen to what you just said and then you tell me!”

Honey thought a moment, and then giggled herself. “That’s not what I meant and you know it! I just mean that Mother made sure she had soft towels and fresh soap and the right kind of shampoo. Then they took a trip through my closet and let me tell you! I had no idea my taste in clothing was so terrible!”

Trixie glanced at Margaret, still safely a good distance away from them and out of earshot. “You’re kidding. She said that?”

“Well, it’s not exactly what she said. She was real careful not to insult me directly, but the effect was the same. Everything was either too big or too ugly. It took Mother, Celia and me an hour to come up with what she had on this morning. And that was the first thing I suggested she wear!”

“What about what she’s wearing now? That doesn’t seem so elegant to me.”

“Actually, those are her jeans and they cost over $200. They’re from a store on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills. Ultra-designer denim.” Honey nodded at Trixie. “That’s right. She told me so herself. Celia had to wash them this morning, even though the hospital washed all Margaret’s clothes yesterday. They didn’t do them right, she says.”

Trixie was still puzzled, thought, about one other thing. “What did Margaret tell your parents about Thursday night? What did she say about why she’s in town? Jim only told me that she said she was trying to get to Jersey or something and she got lost.”

“That’s what she said, all right,” Honey said. “She claims she took the wrong bus out of Manhattan, trying to visit her aunt in Jersey, but she saw the signs to Sleepyside and knew not only that she was going the wrong direction, but that that was where my parents kept a house. She says she remembered the name of the road and was cutting through the woods to get to Manor House sooner when the guy jumped out at her and attacked.”

“What a load of bull.”

Honey nodded. “Just what I was thinking. Jim, too. I know he doesn’t believe her any more than you or I do, but Mother and Father bought it. They said they were going to call her aunt in Jersey, but Margaret said she didn’t remember the number offhand.”

“That’s just stupid!” Trixie said. “That’s not even a good lie! She took the wrong bus?!? What, they forgot to check her ticket before she boarded?”

“Well, I was thinking, why would she have taken a bus at all? I mean, she can easily afford to charter a limo herself,” Honey pointed out.

“There’s that, too.” Trixie sighed. “Here comes Mart and Di. We’ll probably be leaving now. Great. And this was just getting interesting!”

“I still want to talk to you, though,” Honey said. “I’ve got some concerns about something else.”

Trixie cast her friend a quick look. “About what? Hurry before they get here.”

“I overheard Margaret last night. She had a nightmare and cried out in her sleep, but by the time I got the nerve to go to her room, she had stopped.”

“Oooh! Of all the times for Miss Trask to visit her brother and take a vacation!” Trixie grinned to underscore her sarcasm.

“I know. She would have had the truth out of Margaret inside of five minutes. She’s very comforting after nightmares.” Honey nodded solemnly.

Trixie’s heart went out to her friend. She remembered Honey telling her about all the nightmares she had had as a child, and that coming to Sleepyside to live made them stop. Something told her, however, that Margaret’s nightmares were of her own making.

The octet assembled just outside of the corral. Brian and Jim decided to lead the group through the preserve toward Maypenny’s. “Maybe Maypenny will have some Venison Stew ready,” Jim grinned. “I could sure go for some, despite just having had lunch.”

“It’s cold enough,” Diana agreed, “but some of those doughnuts would be just fine by me!” The rest of the Bob-Whites chimed in on their preference for stew or doughnuts, falling in along gender lines.

“Who’s May Penny? Where does she live?” Margaret asked, easily maneuvering Starlight just behind Jim on Jupiter. They had just crossed behind the garage and were entering the actual preserve. She glanced around as the rest of the group began laughing. “What’s so funny?” She looked irritated.

“Maypenny is the guy Dan lives with!” Trixie said, then laughed harder as she realized what she had implied.

“Thanks, Trixie,” Dan grumbled, obviously trying not to laugh along with her. “Thanks a lot! Mr. Maypenny lives in a log cabin in the woods. I live there, with him, umm…. It’s kind of hard to explain.”

Margaret waited as patiently as seemed possible for her.

“You see, Dan is Regan’s nephew,” Jim began.

“Yeah, and Uncle Bill is my guardian,” Dan continued. “But he lives over the garage, you see-“

“In one of two efficiencies-“ Honey explained.

Dan nodded. “So there’s not enough room for the two of us in one place, and-“

“Since no one trusts Dan on his own,” Jim interjected, grinning.

“Oh, gosh, no, that would be too much to ask us respectable citizens to handle!” Honey agreed, her eyes twinkling merrily.

“-I have to stay with Maypenny. Are you two done now?” Dan said, his tone soaked with exasperation.

“You live in the woods? In a log cabin?” Margaret asked, frowning.

“Yeah. Up ahead. It’s not far,” Dan said, pointing through the trees. “You can see the smoke from the chimney.”

Margaret followed Dan’s direction and saw a long strand of smoke stretching toward the sky. Something about the scene struck her as from out of a fairy tale. There should be a princess, she thought, and a handsome prince, and a curse. Or something.

Conversation skittered around various topics including, but not limited to, the weather, the end of Winter Break for the high school and whether or not it was fair that college had let out for a full six weeks while the high school session resumed its full schedule on Monday.

They entered the clearing where Maypenny’s cabin stood, blanketed peacefully in snow. Tracks from the door to the small barn, from the barn to the water pump, from the water pump to the door and from the door again toward the river told the tale. Mr. Maypenny was not at home.

Dan dismounted and led Cranberry to the hitching post he’d installed last summer. “He did say he was going to do some hunting today, so there’ll probably be stew in the next couple of days. But let’s see if there’s any doughnuts left.”

Margaret dismounted with the others, a wrinkle of disgust marring her otherwise elfin face. “He hunts?” she said to no one in particular. The others headed toward the cabin door, which Dan held open politely.

Jim, however, caught her mutter. “Yeah. He hunts. What’s wrong with that?” he asked as he passed by her on the way to the door.

“Why can’t he just get his meat from the butcher like normal people?” she asked, following. Trixie, Honey and Di entered the snug cabin. Dan followed the girls, leaving the door for Brian to hold open.

Jim shared a look with Brian and Mart. “Where do you think meat comes from?”

Margaret looked at Jim slantways with disgust. “I’m not an idiot. I just think it’s rather cruel to kill an animal just for a few strips of meat or something. What’s the point? Is it the testosterone boost that comes from killing? Is it the thought that, hey, now you’re on top of the food chain? Is it the guns? The blood? Meat is meat. Just get it from the grocer and be done with it.”

Jim just shook his head. “Why don’t you go inside?” he said wearily. “You’re letting out all the heat.” He waited for Margaret to disappear inside before almost growling, “She is driving me crazy! I swear, I thought Regan was going to blow his top, I really did! When she got in his face-! You didn’t see it, Mart, but she practically condescended to him. To Regan! I couldn’t believe her nerve!”

“I know,” Brian said. “I couldn’t believe it, either. I just hope she doesn’t piss off Maypenny or something about hunting.”

Mart blinked at both of them. “Some chíca loca comes to visit, irritates Regan and insults Maypenny and we’re just standing out here in the snow? Let’s get in there and see what she does for an encore!” He pushed past them and entered the cabin.

“’Chíca loca’?” Jim asked, frowning.

“Crazy girl,” Brian replied. “Apparently, since we’ve been away, Mart has decided to become proficient in a language besides English.”

Jim nodded. “I see. Sounds good.”

“Yeah,” Brian said, ushering Jim inside. “We’ll see how long it lasts.”

**

“Have you figured out where we are yet?”

“I think so. That’s the river and so that’s east, right?”

“Idiot. If that’s the river, then that’s west. We’re east. So where’s this cabin and where’s the nearest road?”

“Wait. If you climb up here, you can see the cabin. There they all are. They’re going inside.”

“What are they doing about the horses?”

“They’re just leaving them there.”

“Perfect. Let’s play!”

“Ugh. I never should have agreed to see Desperado with you. Antonio Banderas you are not.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing. Never mind.”

**

Inside Maypenny’s cabin, a small fire burned in the huge fireplace, maintaining a degree of cozy warmth. The teens crowded into the kitchen/dining room, searching for any leftovers they might be able to ‘borrow’. Diana found a canister of snickerdoodles. There was much rejoicing as Dan produced a jug of fresh milk from the icebox and eight glasses and mugs.

They crowded around the small table and waited as Dan and Diana served cookies and milk. Trixie noticed how Margaret only sipped at her milk and nibbled at her cookie. She remembered how Margaret had insulted Honey’s wardrobe and, wanting to wreak a little vengeance, she asked, “What’s the matter? You don’t like the cookies either?”

Startled, Margaret glanced up, wide-eyed. “They’re fine. But they’re too sweet. I probably shouldn’t have them.”

Trixie instantly felt guilty for bringing it up, especially when she saw how Margaret set her half-eaten cookie back on her napkin and folded her hands, waiting for the rest of them to finish. Trixie tried to see the others from Margaret’s point of view. She saw the boys take fifth and sixth helpings of cookies and even Honey pour herself and Di a second glass of milk. They all joked and laughed easily with each other, teasing Diana about wearing Mart’s old BWG jacket and Honey about the fact that she was wearing the same earrings now for the past week. Of course, Brian had purchased those earrings for her Christmas present, and that fact contributed to most of the bantering.

But knowing how Margaret might be feeling left out of everything, conversation and snack time included, stole a bit of the fun from Trixie’s afternoon. Just great, she thought. Here I am, surrounded by my brothers and best friends for the first time since Jim and Brian left for college, and I can’t enjoy it because I’m too concerned that some brat might be feeling left out. I just hate growing up!

Dan made sure to leave a few cookies for Mr. Maypenny, “in case he wants to have some of the cookies he baked himself,” he said, and cleared the table for his friends. “Why don’t you all go hang out in the living room for a minute while I rinse these glasses?”

Margaret hung back while the others filed into the living room. “Dan? Can I ask you a strange question?”

“Shoot.”

“Okay,” she said slowly. “Did Mr. Maypenny build this cabin all by himself?”

Dan glanced around the kitchen as if to be certain of his reply. “Yeah. He did. Well, renovated it, anyway. He’s really an excellent carpenter. He can build anything. Anything at all. Most of the property bordered by the highway and Glen used to belong to his family, but they sold it all to the various farmers around here a couple generations back. These 10 or so acres are all that the Maypennys own anymore. Apparently, this used to be a hunting lodge until he remade it about 15-20 years ago.”

Margaret nodded. “That’s interesting. I’d like to see more of the place, if you don’t mind.”

“You’re interested in log cabins?” Dan asked.

She shrugged. “Sure. I’ve always wanted to live in one. They just seem so comforting and safe. Don’t ask me why. Mother says they’re drafty in the cold and drippy when it rains.”

He chuckled. “Actually, this is probably better built than Manor House, but yeah, I’ll give you the nickel tour. Hang on a sec,” he said as he finished rinsing the glasses and setting them in the rack to dry.

As they passed through the living room, Dan told the others, “I’m taking Margaret on a quick tour of upstairs. We’ll be right back.”

Maypenny’s cabin had two floors above ground and a series of cellars below. The living room, kitchen/dining room, a guest bathroom and a storage closet took up the ground floor. A steep set of stairs ran up the side of the cabin and led to the second floor landing, and Maypenny’s bedroom and Dan’s room, and the bathroom they shared between them. The landing stretched from the back of the cabin to the front, where a long hall led to the bedrooms.

“Why does the floor go all the way back that way?” Margaret asked, pointing out an unnecessary ell in the landing.

“Oh, that.” Dan thought a moment. “Maypenny told me once he’d had plans to expand the cabin that way. This is only about half the size house he originally wanted.”

“Why did he stop building it, then?”

“Oh, well,” Dan said, “there’s no need. The cabin’s still almost too big for two people. Why should he add on?”

Margaret frowned. “But it was in the original plans.”

“Yeah, but plans change.” Dan hesitated to tell Margaret the real reason the planned expansion of the cabin had stopped. He decided to just answer exactly what she asked. Hopefully, she wouldn’t ask the right questions. She looked at him calculatingly. He froze, knowing she somehow knew just the right questions to ask.

“Why was it in the original plans?”

Oh, no. How could he tell her without breaking Maypenny’s confidence? Except, of course, that Maypenny had never actually told him it was a secret. Then again, the old guy really valued his privacy. This could be difficult. “Because he originally planned for more people to live here.” There. That might do it.

Margaret shook her head slowly in disbelief. “You’re stubborn, you know that? Is this too personal or something? You can tell me if it’s none of my business, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out why it should be such a secret.”

Dan sighed. “Come on, I’ll show you the other rooms.” He led her down the hall. Dan pointed out Maypenny’s closed bedroom door at the end of the hall, the oversized bathroom with the claw foot tub and collapsible shower and then opened the door to his room.

Margaret boldly pushed past him in an effort to get the full effect. Dan’s room was situated over the living room, in the middle of the cabin. Directly across from the door a small, navy blue curtained window allowed the western light to enter. The hand-carved headboard of a twin-sized bed took up the northern wall. A solid oak dresser, at least six feet tall, dominated the eastern wall while a closet and desk took up the southern. The floor sported a thick, multi-colored woven rug. A small chest sat under the window.

Margaret entered further, intending to look out the window when she discovered she had to abruptly duck her head from the slanting ceiling. “Whoa! Who put that there?” she muttered.

“Sorry?” Dan asked, entering the room after her.

She glanced back at him, a rueful smile on her lips. “I guess I always thought the ceiling was higher.” She leaned to look out the window, pleasantly surprised to see a rather pastoral scene. A long stretch of meadow gave way to a small path and a copse of trees. Beyond the copse, she saw a small, fenced-in yard. “What’s that out there?” she asked.

Dan leaned in close beside her, peering out the window. He slipped an arm around her shoulders and asked, “What’s what out where?”

Margaret could feel the heat emanating from Dan’s body as he leaned closer to her, ostensibly because the window was rather small and he just wanted to know what she was looking at. She pointed at the wrought iron fence and asked again, “What’s that?”

“Oh, that.” Dan moved away to the center of the room where he could stand comfortably again. “That’s a graveyard.”

Margaret turned, frowning. “Who’s buried there?”

Dan took a deep breath. “Mr. Maypenny’s wife and kid. Among other people.” Sympathy welled up in Margaret’s eyes. She turned once more to the window and leaned to look out.

“How did they die, his wife and kid? Was it an accident?”

“Um, no. Actually, I’m not sure. I’ve never asked. He doesn’t talk about it much, you know? I got the impression that they died round about the same time, years ago.”

“Was it a boy or girl?”

Dan thought about it for a moment. When Margaret turned with the question still on her face, he shrugged. “Sorry I don’t know all the details. Guys just don’t talk about things like that.”

She nodded. “It was a girl, then.” When Dan asked how she could be so sure, she smiled sadly. “Because a son is what every man wants. Therefore, if he’d had a son, he would have said so.”

What could he say to that? Nothing, he figured, so he just let her continue to inspect his room. 

Margaret noticed a small lamp, two books and a dirty glass on the bedside table, a pair of skis leaning against the wall nearest the closet and several schoolbooks, notebooks, pens and pencils on the desk. Three rows of bookshelves had been installed above the desk as well. She leaned closer to read the titles. Apparently, Dan had a fascination with science fiction. She saw plenty of Asimov, Bradbury and Clarke.

“I’m impressed,” Margaret smiled. “You’ve read 2001 and the Foundation series?”

Dan hesitated. “Actually, no. Those are Maypenny’s books. He’s into all that. He’s a real sci-fi nut.”

She returned her eyes to the books. “So, what do you read?”

He grinned. “I like detective stories. Agatha Christie, Raymond Chandler. Like that.” He pointed to the lowest shelf. “Those are mine.”

“I see.” That wasn’t too bad, she supposed. A bit too good to be true if he was a ‘sci-fi nut’, she supposed. She glanced around one more time, pleased to notice the only poster on the wall was for something called a Winter Carnival, and not the latest cheesecake-pinup model. Belatedly, she saw a small framed photograph on his desk. Without asking permission, she picked it up and studied it carefully.

The 3X5 photo showed a young woman with vividly red hair and bright blue eyes holding a small baby wrapped in a blanket. A surprisingly handsome young man, with very dark hair and eyes, had his arms around them both. The young couple smiled happily into the camera. “Are these your parents?” Margaret asked softly.

“Yeah. It’s all I have left of them. I carried that picture around in my wallet after she died,” he said in a voice thick with emotion.

“I’m sorry. I should have guessed that something like that had happened. Has it been a long time?”

“It’ll be two years in August that my mother’s been gone. My dad died when I was eight.” Dan noticed Margaret looking at him with sympathy and something else. He wasn’t sure, but he did notice that, when she wasn’t sniping at someone or afraid, she was actually quite pretty. And she seemed to like spending time with him. And he liked being around her. He’d have to give it all some more thought.

Margaret set the frame back down, quelling the sudden, strange envy that flooded her. She wanted to feel free enough to give Dan a hug, maybe even a small kiss, but, circumstances being what they were, she refrained.

**

“Stay down, you idiot! Stay down!”

“Hey! Watch who you’re shoving!”

“Well, get with it. Hurry up.”

“These knots are in here too tight.”

“Use your knife, then. Just do it and hurry up!”

“Okay, okay.” Snikt! “I got it. Let’s go.”

**

“I’ve got an idea,” Trixie said, just after Dan and Margaret disappeared upstairs. “Let’s have a snowball fight.”

“So you can pummel Miss Lang with consolidated chunks of crystallized H2O? That’s hardly the thing a well-brought up young lady should be suggesting,” Mart replied, smirking.

“That’s not what I was suggesting! I was thinking it might be a kind of ice-breaker, literally, for Margaret to get to know us. That’s all. Her parents are supposed to be here soon, right? So why can’t we just have some fun?” Trixie wanted to know.

Honey clapped her hands excitedly. “I think that’s a great idea! We’ve finally got even numbers, so we could go boys against girls, or brunettes against blondes. And redheads,” Honey added for Jim’s benefit.

Jim frowned. “But that would be five against three. Margaret’s a redhead, too.”

The girls chuckled. The boys looked confused. “No, she’s not,” Diana explained. “She colors her hair. She’s a brunette.”

“She does? She is?” Brian and Mart glanced at each other, then at Jim. “How can you tell? I didn’t see roots,” Brian continued.

“She’s got a good hairdresser,” Honey said. “But, come on. That shade definitely came straight out of a bottle.”

Trixie sighed loudly. “Forget it, Honey. Guys are so easily taken in by those things.”

Jim frowned. “Are you sure? I mean, come on. How can you girls always tell these things?”

“I don’t think they can,” Brian said, before the girls could explain. “I think they just tell us they can, so they can feel superior to us in some small way.”

Mart frowned. “You mean like with breast enlargements?”

“Mart!” Trixie shrieked, scandalized.

“Well, come on, Trixie! Admit it,” Mart said. “Girls say they can take one look at someone and know if they’re ‘slinging silicon’, but no one has ever been able to explain to me how they can deduce that information just by quick observation. If you can explain it, please. Be my guest. Elucidate the matter for the assembled company.”

Trixie covered her ears and closed her eyes. She chanted loudly, “I am not having this conversation. I am not having this conversation…”

Honey smiled at Trixie’s antics, then said, “All right, Mart. You’re on. It’s all in the cleavage.” The contrast between Honey’s persona, that of an elegant young woman, and the rest of her conversation, describing the difference between silicon-enhanced cleavage and the natural kind, provoked the expected reaction among the group. Brian and Mart blushed, Jim closed his eyes and fought a grin, Diana and Trixie smirked to each other. When Honey finished, she asked if there were any more questions, but the guys all cried, “No! That’s all right! We believe you!”

Smugly, Honey folded her arms. “As well you should. You should all understand that there are certain things that women just know and that men will never be able to figure out.”

“Well, a snowball fight sounds real good to me, anyway. I’m going to get some more cookies and boost my energy levels. Any of you guys want some?” Jim grinned and headed for the kitchen. As he passed the front windows, however, a flurry of movement caught his attention. He ran up close to the window and stared outside. The horses were racing around the yard, stomping and rearing.

“Damn it!” Jim cursed. “The horses are loose! We’ve got to go get them before they run off and hurt themselves!” He grabbed his jacket and slipped it on as he bolted through the front door, the other Bob-Whites close behind.

Diana, the last one out the door, called up to Dan and Margaret, informing them of the crisis.

Upstairs, Margaret and Dan heard the sound of galloping hoofbeats. Margaret whirled and returned to the window where she saw Jupiter and Susie racing across the meadow. She pointed them out to Dan, but he had already fled down the stairs. She hurried after him.

Confused disorientation overtook the Bob-Whites. While Trixie examined the hitching post and found the cut reins, Brian and Jim raced after Starlight and Strawberry, Diana hurried after Sunny while Honey lunged to catch Jupiter’s reins before he chased after Susie behind the cabin. She slipped and fell in the slush.

Dan burst from the cabin door and quickly took in the chaotic scene. He whistled sharply, but Cranberry just reared and whinnied, then bolted toward Glen Road. Margaret, racing from the cabin, almost ran straight into him. “What spooked them?” she shouted over the din of hoofbeats, horses and the Bob-Whites’ yells.

Dan shook his head grimly. He didn’t know, but he had a pretty good idea. A moment passed as the yard cleared out of horses and people and even Trixie gave up her impromptu investigation and took off into the woods after the errant horses.

Silence reigned, broken only by the distant and lessening sounds of horses and teenagers, crashing through the underbrush.

“Perfect. They’re all gone.”

“What’re we going to do now?”

“We let Danny-boy know the score, that’s what.”

Two thin figures separated from the afternoon shadows of the woods and approached the log cabin. The taller of the pair strode purposefully toward the cabin door in a peculiar, lock-kneed lope, while the smaller one hesitated, listening.

“Will you hurry up? They’re gone, all right?” the taller one complained.

“Sorry. It’s just so eerie up here. All quiet and everything. You can’t hear anything, you know?” The smaller one hurried across the open yard and joined his friend at the door.

The taller one had long dark brown hair, light brown eyes and a thin face. His oversized leather jacket hung off his shoulders at least three sizes too large. He grinned at the smaller guy and shoved on the door, opening it. In seconds they were inside. Moments later they found Dan’s room.

After six minutes inside the cabin, the pair exited the cabin. The smaller one, at his friend’s direction, pulled out an aerosol can. They left the yard two minutes later.

**

“Whew! I think that’s got to be the last of them,” Brian huffed as he tied the last set of reins. He and the other Bob-Whites had successfully rounded up the horses and returned them to the Wheeler stable, though it had taken the better part of the hour.

Jim counted the horses. “Yeah, and with Diana and Mart taking her horses back to her house, and Dan leading Cranberry back to Maypenny’s, that is all of them.” He sighed heavily. “I guess now we have to start cleaning them up.”

“What a mess,” Brian said sourly. The horses had had a great deal of fun, traipsing through the muddy slush of the creeks, running across snowy fields, avoiding capture. Each was liberally muck-splashed. 

“I’ll get the girls to help. They should be done explaining it all to Regan by now.” Jim clapped Brian on the shoulder in an effort to boost his friend’s spirits and left him alone with his thoughts. He approached the groom and the girls as unobtrusively as possible. He didn’t relish the prospect of facing one of Regan’s lectures.

“But, Regan! We did properly tie them to the post! And we did keep an eye on them! We don’t know how it all happened. Honest,” Honey exclaimed earnestly. She stood in front of a terrifically angry Regan, pleading for clemency.

Trixie, on Regan’s left, nodded her head in agreement. “That’s true, Regan! Someone deliberately cut the reins and frightened the horses! See?” She held up two short lengths that used to be part of Susie’s reins. “I always double tie the knots when I hitch a horse. Whoever untied the horses couldn’t undo my knots so he or she had to cut them.”

Regan took the reins from Trixie’s hand and examined them, unmoved. He stuffed the short lengths into his back pocket, then raised his eyes to look at Margaret. “Are you going to try to convince me I shouldn’t be angry about this, too?”

Nonplused, Margaret stared back at him. “Excuse me? Why should I care if you believe us or not? The horses got loose, we found them all and returned them, none the worse for wear, end of story. So some reins got cut. Someone played a practical joke on all of us. So what?”

Wide-eyed, Trixie and Honey shot each other a warning glance and each girl took a step backward as Jim joined them. He glanced briefly from Regan to Margaret, shooting missiles at each other with their eyes. “What’s going on here?” he asked. When no one volunteered an answer and neither Regan nor Margaret even blinked, he said, “They’re all safe now, Regan. Brian and I are going to start grooming Jupiter and Strawberry. That leaves Susie for you, Trix, and Lady for you, sis. Margaret, I can show you where the combs and stuff are kept, whenever you’re ready.”

Margaret flicked her attention to Jim. “Why would you do that?”

Jim stuttered briefly. “Uhmmm, well. Because you’re going to want to groom Starlight.”

“I am?” She looked surprised.

Jim nodded. “Of course. Those are the stable rules. You ride a horse, you groom it afterward. You rode Starlight, so…”

Margaret frowned distractedly. “Excuse me? What did you say?”

Regan took a step forward, his hands still on his hips, and said calmly, “You rode Starlight, you groom him. What’s so difficult to understand?”

“Hold on a second,” Margaret said, her hands up defensively. “Let me get this straight. Matt Wheeler owns this place. He owns these horses. He owns everything I see here. He pays your salary. I’m a guest, here at his invitation. He suggests I ride his horse Jupiter. You, his employee, deny his request for no good reason and now, when I’ve returned from my ride on a horse barely worth my time or effort to go chasing after through the woods, I’m informed that I’m supposed to groom the animal. Correct me if I’m wrong, because I so hate to possess incorrect information, but you are a groom, right? That’s your title, your job description, your lot in life? That’s what you get paid for? Well, let me tell you, Regan, there’s a horse over there that needs some grooming. Get to it.”

“Now see here, Margaret,” Regan began, but she interrupted him.

“Excuse me, Regan,” she ground out imperiously, “but you’re treading on dangerous ground. I’m a guest of your employer. I suggest you show a bit more deference and respect when dealing with me or you’ll be dealing with the unemployment line. Understand?”.

“Better than you think,” Regan muttered.

Margaret stiffened. “What did you say?”

Regan smiled pleasantly, but his blue eyes had long since iced over. “I said, ‘right away, Miss Lang’.” He waited as the girl turned on her heel and stalked toward the house. Before she had gotten ten feet away, Regan pivoted as well, marched to where Starlight had been hitched, grabbed the reins, untied them in a smooth movement and yanked the horse’s head toward the stable.

Horrified, Trixie and Honey stared at each other. What would Regan likely do now? They both recalled how Mr. Wheeler always said, if Regan ever left him, he’d sell the horses. Would he be likely to quit now that he had been dressed-down like that? In front of them? From a girl their own age?

“Is it safe to breathe yet?” Jim asked softly, his eyes huge and round with shock.

Brian approached swiftly. “Did I really hear what I thought I just heard? Did Margaret really tell off Regan?”

Honey nodded slowly, hot tears swimming in her eyes.

Trixie moaned. “I am so afraid to go in there, and terrified not to! What if he thinks we think of him the same way? Like an employee? What if he thinks - ! Oh, gosh, Honey! Why didn’t we stop her? Why didn’t we say anything in his defense?”

Honey could only shake her head. “I don’t know! It all happened so fast. And then she was pulling rank and what could I do? She is my parent’s guest! I’m supposed to help keep her happy and-and calm and what happens? I can’t do it! Mother and Father will be so angry with me!”

Jim slipped an arm around his sister. “Take it easy, Honey. We’ll explain everything to Father and it will all be all right. Promise. Isn’t that what you’re always telling me? ‘Things will get better, trust me’?”

Honey lifted her tear-soaked hazel eyes to his. “Yeah, I guess so. But what should we do about Regan?”

Jim smiled. “Simple. We treat him exactly the same way we’ve always treated him.”

Brian nodded. “Right. We go in there and we groom the hell out of those horses. Come on, guys! Let’s make those horses shine! I want to see my face in their flanks!”

Honey rewarded his mock exuberance with a tremulous smile. She wiped at the corners of her eyes and went to untie Lady from the fence. Trixie followed suit with Susie and soon all four of them were inside the snug stable, grooming their horses, listening to the ominous silence that emanated from the last stall on the right, where Regan worked, grooming the hell out of Starlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should note that, much like how I got most of my medical info from Dr Google and hearsay, I gleaned the equine knowledge from the Google Stables and the Trixie Belden books themselves.


	5. What Happened at Maypenny's Anyway?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seems Dan never got back to Maypenny's and Margaret's missing, too. Time to cue up a search party and for Trixie to start actively seeking some clues to what's going on.

As Trixie and Honey finished up their tack, the telephone extension in Regan’s office rang. After a moment, Regan set down the bridle he was cleaning and went to answer it. Brian and Jim shared a look of relief, then grinned.

“What’s so funny?” Trixie asked.

Brian shrugged. “It’s just so weird to be doing this, all of us here together, but not saying a word.”

Trixie looked at Honey. “Do you think Regan is still angry?”

Honey glanced toward Regan’s office. “I hope not. As soon as we finish here, though, I’m going to have a chat with Daddy and see if I can nip anything in the bud.”

“What about Margaret?” Trixie asked. “Do you think you could get her to apologize?”

“I don’t know,” Honey said miserably. “I don’t know if I should go talk to her now or-“

Regan’s return interrupted them. He stopped at the doorway. “Where did Dan say he was going when he left with Cranberry?”

Jim frowned. “I thought he said he was just going back up to Maypenny’s.”

“Why?” Trixie asked, reading more in Regan’s expression than curiosity.

Regan hesitated, then said, “He’s not back yet and Maypenny’s worried. Apparently, more happened at the cabin than you let on.”

“Like what?” Brian said, putting up his tack. “We barely had a chance to do more than grab a snack.”

“I don’t know exactly,” Regan admitted slowly, “but it sounds like the place was pretty much trashed. Now, I know you kids better than to think you’d mess up anyone’s house, but….”

“What did Mr. Maypenny say happened?” Trixie asked.

Regan looked at her, then at Honey. “Not much. I imagine he was more worried about Dan’s whereabouts than some dirty dishes. He’s still on hold. I’ll go tell him Dan left to go straight home.” He returned to the office, swinging the door closed behind him.

As the door swung, however, Trixie leapt to her feet and hurried to the doorway. The door almost closed, but a light touch from Trixie prevented it from doing more than briefly touching the jamb. “Trixie! What are you doing?” Brian scolded his sister.

“Shhh!” She admonished him, then leaned in close to the opening.

Angry now, Brian stood and moved across the tack room to grab Trixie’s arm and pull her away from the door. “You’re not going to eavesdrop on Regan’s private conversation, you got that?”

“Stop it! It’s not like that! Dan’s in trouble,” Trixie said, struggling against her brother’s grip. “Regan sounds really worried and there’s more wrong at the cabin than they’re telling us. We need to go find Dan and fast or something really bad is going to happen.”

Honey gasped. Jim closed the jar of saddle soap he’d been using and wiped his hands on his jeans. “Trixie, be serious. What could possibly happen to Dan between here and his house? It’s not that far.”

“I don’t know,” Trixie admitted. “But before I was dragged away from the door, I overheard Regan tell Mr. Maypenny that he was worried Dan hadn’t shown up yet. I think-“

Regan reappeared in the doorway. “You think what?” he asked, scowling. When Trixie just turned a guilty expression to him, Regan shook his head. “Forget it. Just go home. I’ll finish up here.”

“But, Regan,” Honey began.

“But nothing. Get out of here.” Regan took the bridle away from Honey and shooed her out the door. “Go on, kids. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He waited until Jim, Brian and Trixie, only reluctantly, exited the tack room, then shut the door on them.

“Well! That was mysterious,” Trixie offered.

“Let’s just go home, Sis,” Brian said. “I’m sure Moms has something you can do there that’ll take your mind off other people’s business.”

**

Indeed, she had. Trixie spent the next hour straightening and dusting her father’s study, the front parlor and the family room in back of the cozy farmhouse. “Thank goodness it’s winter outside,” she moaned, collapsing on the newly fluffed sofa.

“Why’s that, Trixie?” her youngest brother, Bobby, asked, plopping himself on the end cushion and staring at her.

She smiled at him. He was so cute, she thought. Idly, she wondered if her blonde curls looked as cute on her, and if anyone else thought so. Aloud, she said, “Because if it were Spring, I’d have to drag this huge old rug outside and beat it to death. Since it’s Winter, I can just run the carpet sweeper over it. That’s a lot easier to do.”

Bobby nodded wisely, then frowned. “Harrison just vacuums everything,” he said, referring to the Lynch family butler. “Why don’t you just vacuum it?”

Trixie grinned. “This is too valuable a rug and it might come apart. At least, that’s what Moms says. But I’ll tell you what. I think she just says it to teach me a lesson.”

Bobby frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“Well, just look at this old thing,” she said, gesturing at the area rug on the floor. “Does this look particularly valuable to you?” As Trixie gestured at the carpet, she stretched herself out on the cushions, resting her head on the arm of the sofa. “It’s all water-stained and – and… oh, no. What’s that doing there?”

From her viewpoint, she could see under all the furniture in the room, including the wing chair across the floor. Below that wing chair, she saw a thick book, which she didn’t immediately recognize, shoved way underneath. Frowning, Trixie went over and crouched in front of the chair, stretching her arm beneath it to grab the book. “Hm. I wonder how you got under there,” she said thoughtfully.

“Is it a story?” Bobby asked. “Read me a story, Trixie.” He joined her on the floor and grabbed the book from her hands, opening it and flipping through the pages. “Pooh! That isn’t a story. There aren’t any pictures. Boring. I want to read a good story.”

“Okay, okay,” Trixie said, irritably. She retrieved the book and told him, “Go read a story, then. Your teacher says you can read real well. Why don’t you go upstairs and read something you’ve already got?”

“I know!” Bobby jumped up. “I’m going to read one of Brian’s books! They’ve got pictures of people in them!”

As he raced out of the room, Trixie called after him, “That’s wonderful, Bobby, but be careful not to tear the pages!” As his footsteps faded, Trixie idly wondered what book of Brian’s would have pictures of people in them. Was he taking an art class? A thought struck her. Brian was taking an anatomy class… No. He wouldn’t just leave that kind of thing lying around for Bobby to flip through. Right?

Dismissing that thought, Trixie picked up the book and examined it. It was small, about the size of a trade paperback, and hard covered in a blue and red plaid fabric. There wasn’t a title nor any other marking on the book to identify it. Shrugging, Trixie flipped the book open to a random page. She read:

August 28  
Dear Diary,  
I overheard them arguing again about me. Mom just loses it whenever Dad brings up the operation. Why won’t she let me have it? What’s wrong with testing them for compatibility? Why won’t she let me have a chance at a more normal life? Dr. Klein says I’m headed for dialysis in the next two to three years if I don’t try something radical. If she won’t even get tested now, how about when I need a kidney? Diary, I’m scared. Does my mother want me to die?

Trixie slammed the book closed. She felt her heart racing, her pulse throb in her throat. She glanced around the living room. She was still alone. In the kitchen, she could hear her mother softly humming as she prepared a huge pot of chili for dinner. She could smell the baking bread, hear Bobby singing along with his tape recorder upstairs, and see Mart, Brian and her father in the back yard, fixing the chicken coop. Reddy was ‘helping’ them.

Trixie suddenly felt incredibly grateful for the normalcy of her life.

A thought began plaguing her.

She obviously held Margaret’s diary in her hands. Should she continue to read it? Her natural instinct told her not to, that it was wrong to read other people’s personal thoughts and ramblings, even if curiosity killed her outright. Hiding the book behind her back, Trixie got up and poked her head in the kitchen door. “Moms? Is it okay if I go to Honey’s for a while?”

Helen glanced over her shoulder at her daughter. “Sure, Trixie. Dinner’s at 6:30 tonight. I’ll expect you to call if you’ll be late.”

“Thanks, Moms,” Trixie smiled. She let the door swing shut, grabbed her club jacket and hurried outside to Manor House.

**

“You didn’t read it, did you? Because that would be wrong.” Honey stared intently at the nameless journal in Trixie’s hands.

“Of course not,” Trixie said. “Well, not beyond what I accidentally read. But that was before I knew what it was or who it belonged to.”

“How did it get in your house?” Honey kept eyeing the journal.

“I emptied Margaret’s knapsack looking for her ID and stuff Thursday night. I must have kicked it under the chair while I was re-packing her stuff for the hospital. I just noticed it not half an hour ago.”

Honey sighed and leaned back against the sofa. The girls sat in the Wheelers’ formal living room. “I wish I didn’t feel differently about reading it,” she sighed. “But I can’t make it all right in my head to do it.”

“I know,” Trixie moaned. “I feel terrible about what I did read, and that was purely by accident.” She told Honey the gist of the passage she’d read.

“Wow. I had no idea she was so sick, or so scared,” Honey breathed.

“I know. She just seems angry all the time.” As Trixie listened to herself speaking, she began to nod. “Which all makes sense, you know. I’d be pretty angry too, if I needed a kidney or something and Moms or Dad refused to get tested.”

“I just can’t imagine it. I mean, of course I’d get tested! Even if it were Jim and the chances of us matching on something like that are next to nothing. He’s my very own full-blooded adopted brother! I’d do anything for him!” Tears welled up in Honey’s eyes at the thought.

Trixie put her arm around her friend’s slender shoulders. “I know, and so would he. So would any of us. That’s what’s so hard to understand about Margaret’s parents. I’m sure that’s why she’s been so difficult with us.”

Honey nodded resolutely. “I’m going to be much nicer and more understanding of her, that’s for certain. Before she goes, we’re all going to be much better friends.”

“I agree,” Trixie said. “Let’s start by taking her her diary and asking if there’s anything she wants to talk about. Maybe she’ll bring this whole thing up and maybe we can think of a better solution for her than running away from home.”

They got up and hurried to the main staircase. “She’s upstairs in her room, resting, she said. If she’s really sleeping, we won’t wake her,” Honey said. “But if she’s not, we’ll return her book and, hopefully, have a real good chat.” She paused on the first landing. “I hope you’re not too upset.”

“About what?” Trixie frowned, bewildered.

Honey sighed briefly and glanced down the hallway to the guestroom. “That your mystery has turned out a little, well, flat. I mean, we know who she is and we know why. Well, sort of. She obviously feels left out at home and she ran away. She was probably just looking for attention. Her parents could be here as early as tonight, so everything will probably straighten itself out when they get here. What’s the mystery?”

Trixie passed Honey on the landing. “The mystery, my dear Watson, is why exactly Margaret felt she had to leave and why exactly did she choose Sleepyside? We know she didn’t realize your parents lived here. We know she didn’t just randomly choose Sleepyside, either. She came here for a reason. She was looking for something, not running away.” She moved down the hall to Margaret’s room. Honey followed close behind. “Of course,” Trixie continued. “There’s still the question of who attacked her in the woods.”

“Do you really think someone did? I mean, could she have made the whole thing up in order to cover up something else?” Honey whispered.

Trixie turned, astonished. “Honey Wheeler! I would never have believed you capable of thinking someone capable of planning something so devious!”

“Well,” Honey laughed, “I think it all comes from spending time with you.”

The friends laughed together a moment, then Trixie knocked on Margaret’s door. “That’s strange,” she said after a moment. “There’s no answer.” She knocked again.

When Honey knocked and called out and they still received no answer, Honey turned the knob, opening the door. “Margaret? It’s Honey and Trixie. We’re coming in. Is everything all right?”

They entered the guestroom and looked around. Trixie quickly realized Margaret hadn’t been there for some time. The bed wasn’t even wrinkled, which implied she hadn’t taken a nap. A small white teddy bear, the fur well rubbed off, lay propped up on the pillow. Otherwise, there wasn’t even a sign that Margaret had ever been there.

Honey opened the closet door and saw Margaret’s few clothes hanging inside. Meanwhile, Trixie entered the bathroom. She saw Margaret’s insulin kit and blood sugar monitor on the counter. She peered closely at the monitor and turned it on. The display read 194. Trixie wondered if that was good or not. She looked around again, then called out, “Honey, she left all her stuff here, so she hasn’t run away again. Maybe Celia saw her leave?”

Honey nodded as Trixie returned from the bedroom. “Let’s go ask.”

But Celia could only tell them, “Actually, Miss Honey, I don’t mean to tell tales, but Miss Margaret seemed pretty upset about something. She kept saying one of us took a book from her, but neither the upstairs maid nor I know what she’s talking about. We just unpacked exactly what was in the knapsack Mr. Jim brought in from the car last night.”

Trixie groaned. “Oh, Celia! She’s missing her journal. Her diary,” she explained. “It accidentally got knocked under a chair at my place. I just found it and was here to return it.”

Celia smiled in relief. “Oh, Trixie! She’ll be so happy to know that! I left her in the conservatory. She was making a mess of that Bach piece Mrs. Wheeler enjoys so.”

Trixie and Honey thanked her and hurried off to the small music room. But Margaret wasn’t there, either. Trixie looked around in frustration. “This is becoming more trouble than it’s worth, trying to track her down! Where is she?”

“I don’t know either,” Honey sighed. She sank down on the piano bench and stared at the sheet music still propped up on the stand. “That’s funny,” she said. “Some pages are missing.”

“Here they are,” Trixie said, retrieving several sheets of music from under a long couch. “But how’d they get here?” As she returned the sheets to the piano, she glanced up, noticing the French doors leading to the porch. “I think I know which direction she went, at least.”

“How do you mean?” Honey asked, shuffling the sheets back into order.

Trixie opened the French doors. “Simple. She opened the doors to go outside and the wind blew the pages off the piano. Let’s go find her.”

“Wait up a minute and I’ll get our coats,” Honey said, rushing back toward the entrance hall.

Trixie looked at the gunmetal gray sky. “Good thinking. It is cold out there.”

Moments later, the two girls hurriedly made a circuit of the porch, which wrapped around three-quarters of Manor House. They found no one.

“Do you think she went searching for the book herself?” Honey asked slowly.

“You mean, out in the woods?” Trixie scanned the tree line.

“Yeah,” Honey nodded. “Maybe she thought the book got tossed out of the knapsack when she was attacked. Maybe she thought she should just go looking for it before it got too much later.”

“Well, I would.” Trixie nodded. “Let’s go.”

“Do you think we should tell Jim or Brian?” Honey asked.

“Why?” Trixie frowned. “It’s the middle of the afternoon. We’ll be together. We know where we’re going. Heck, we’ll probably catch up to her ourselves. Let’s go, okay?”

Worried, Honey followed her curly-haired friend across the lawn and into the woods.

**

“Well, this is the spot she was attacked,” Trixie said. “Here’s where I found the rock. I guess Molinson took it for evidence.” She pointed to the spot on the ground.

Honey shivered. “Ugh. I can just imagine. I can’t tell you how many times, winter and summer, I’ve walked this path to Maypenny’s by myself without even questioning it. And now some stranger comes along and this happens! Why do these things happen, Trix?”

“I don’t know,” Trixie told her. “I only know that, when I hear or read about these kinds of things and know the police have zilch they can do about it, my urge to become a detective just about takes over.”

“I know. Mine, too. I just want to help her, you know?” Honey jammed her hands into her heavy winter coat. “I wonder where Margaret is. I don’t see her tracks anywhere around here. Do you?”

They had found a set of boot prints they believed to be Margaret’s (thanks to the Timberwolf logo) on the main trail that lead through the woods to Crabapple Farm and then up toward Maypenny’s cabin. About halfway past Ten Acres, however, the trail stopped in a slushy mess. Trixie and Honey, knowing where they were going, kept on up the trail. They figured Margaret had, too. Now they realized they couldn’t find Margaret’s tracks anywhere.

“Oh, no. Do you think she got lost?” Trixie asked.

“If she went off the path, she did. You remember how long it took us to get used to all the trails and bridle paths and foot paths, don’t you?”

“I still get worried I’ll get lost when we go on the other side of Maypenny’s,” Trixie admitted. “But we’re not there. We’re here, where we know where we are. So where’s Margaret?”

Honey scanned the upwardly sloping path. “You know,” she said slowly. “You can almost see the smoke from Mr. Maypenny’s chimneys from up here. Maybe that’s where she went.”

At that, Trixie’s ears perked up. “That’s a brilliant suggestion! We should go right up there and see. We can talk to Mr. Maypenny and find out if he’s seen Margaret and find out if Dan’s come back yet and see if there are any more clues as to who scared the horses and see what happened to the cabin that Regan doesn’t want us to find out and-“

“Hold on,” Honey laughed. “That’s a lot of ‘see’s and ‘find out’s. Let’s just ‘find out’ whatever we can and ‘see’ if we can leave it at that, okay? For once, let’s just let events unfold as they should and not go around stirring up trouble.”

Trixie threw a sour look over her shoulder as she led Honey through the woods.

**

“No, I haven’t seen hide nor hair of the girl,” Mr. Maypenny told them. He came out to meet them in his yard, but closer to the edge of his property line. “Sorry, but I don’t know where to suggest you look for her, either.”

“Mr. Maypenny,” Trixie began, “do you mind if I take a look at your hitching post? I’m kind of curious about the incident this afternoon with the horses. I assume Regan told you what happened?”

“Oh, aye,” he said, nodding grimly. “He told me. Strange things are going on in these woods lately.”

“What kind of strange things? Do you mean the attack on Margaret?” Honey asked him.

Maypenny shook his head, then nodded it. “Well, no. Or should I say yes. It’s all mixed up together somehow.” He sighed. “I don’t see the point in keeping any of this a secret, so come on up to the house. I’ve got something to show you.”

Curious and eager, Honey and Trixie followed the old man toward the cabin. As they got closer, Trixie immediately noticed a strangely familiar, yet completely incongruous, thing on Mr. Maypenny’s door. The old man gestured at the design. “What do you make of that?” he asked.

Trixie and Honey moved closer to better examine the door. Someone had spray-painted what appeared to be geometric symbols on the wood. Since the only color used was “Crimson Velvet, unless I miss my guess,” according to Trixie, and the painter allowed the paint to drip, determining the exact nature of the design proved difficult.

“Trixie! I think I know what this is!” Honey turned horrified eyes to her friend. “I think it’s a warning for Dan!”

“Well, of course it is. It’s a ‘tag’. I’ve seen them on the news,” Trixie agreed. “Question is, who tagged the door and what’s the message?”

“It looks like,” Honey hesitated, then continued. “It looks like a lower case ‘D’, the ‘#’ sign and then a knife or sword running through it at an angle.”

“Is that what that is?” Trixie backed up a step for a different perspective. “How can you tell?”

“Well,” Honey admitted, “I’m just guessing. I’m pretty sure about the D and the #.”

“I just wish we knew what Dan’s tag was.”

“You think he had one?”

“Of course he did. He must have. It said on the news that every gang has a tag to mark their territory, and every member of that gang has a tag to identify that person. Everything about the tag means something. The color, the size, the placement on the wall. What it’s next to. It’s a whole other language almost.” Trixie gestured at the door. “I wish I could remember what it means when one tag is painted over another. Because that’s what it looks like.”

A familiar deep voice from behind them said, “It’s a death threat.”

The girls whirled in place, startled to see a grim-faced Regan standing there, glaring at the door. “How do you know?” Trixie demanded.

Regan didn’t even glance at them. “Dan told me. How else?”

“Did he also tell you what his tag was?”

Regan sighed. “D sharp.” To answer Trixie’s next unspoken question, he explained. “Tim Mangan was a musician. D sharp is a musical note. The ‘D’ was for Dan, the ‘sharp’ was to imply he was dangerous. But no, I don’t know who the dagger represents, except the guy who wants Dan dead.”

Trixie looked carefully through Regan’s deadly calm expression. “You know more about all this than you’re letting on, don’t you. Why don’t you just tell us and maybe we can all help Dan? Where is he, anyway?”

Maypenny sighed. “I don’t know. Cranberry’s here but Dan’s not. That’s why I called Regan.” He looked at Honey. “I don’t want your father to hear about this the wrong way.”

“Don’t worry. My father thinks the world of you both. Whatever your reasons for doing anything, he’ll accept them, I’m certain,” Honey hastened to assure him.

Maypenny and Regan shared a look, then Regan shrugged. “Oh, go ahead. It won’t hurt to tell them now.”

Trixie and Honey listened as Maypenny told them about the campsite Dan found in the woods the morning before, and how he suspected he knew the campers. He also mentioned another piece of evidence, which Regan hadn’t heard. “There’s a funny white mark in the middle of the bruise on Margaret Lang’s cheek,” Maypenny explained. “Dan says he recognized it as coming from a particular ring a young man he knew on the streets wore.”

“Which young man? Not that horrible Luke person?” Trixie said.

“No, it couldn’t be Luke. He’s back in jail on assault. Dan told me that last November. Who was it, Maypenny?” Regan asked.

The old man shrugged. “Danny didn’t exactly say for sure. Just that he thought the mark came from a ring of a kid he knew on the streets. The way he talked about that boy, though, makes me think the boy’s dead now.”

At that, Regan startled. “He said that?”

“Oh, aye,” Maypenny confirmed. “But not exactly. It was more in the way he talked about this other boy. As if it were all in the past. Over and done with.”

“But he’s sure about the mark?” Regan asked.

Maypenny nodded firmly. “Come over here. Excuse us, ladies.” Maypenny led Regan several steps away from Trixie and Honey and spoke to Regan in a low voice.

Trixie strained to hear what they said to each other, but all she thought she could hear were the words ‘that dream again’, ‘up in his room’ and ‘worried sick’. She glanced at Honey, trying to determine if she had any better idea of what Mr. Maypenny might be talking about, but she seemed as in the dark as Trixie herself.

Regan said something in an even lower tone back to Maypenny, then both men stared thoughtfully at the ground. Trixie broke the silence with, “Should we be worried that Dan isn’t back yet? Because Margaret’s somewhere in the woods, too. She could easily have gotten lost. Maybe they’re together?”

The two men turned their attention to Trixie, their expressions grim, but thoughtful.

**

“Oh, God! My head is killing me!”

“Finally! You’re awake!”

Margaret opened her eyes. She was in what she took to be a cave of some kind, though she’d never been in a cave before. She was sitting upright on a cold, hard patch of ground. High above her arched a rocky ceiling and in front of her about 15 feet or so, gaped an opening. Through that opening, she could tell that a great deal of time had passed since – what was it that happened? Oh, yes, she remembered. She was searching for her journal in the woods when she heard fighting. She went to investigate and… something… what was it? Oh, yes! Some mangy looking guy popped her one on the jaw.

She tried to make herself more comfortable, but instantly realized she was tied to something hard and unyielding, thick ropes forcing her upper arms slightly behind her, while the ropes bound her elbows to her sides and her wrists to ropes around her thighs. She straightened her neck and her head smacked into something solid.

“Ow!”

That wasn’t her. But the voice sounded familiar.

“Would you stop moving around? I almost liked you better when you were unconscious.”

That wasn’t her, either. “Who-?” she began, realizing she was tied to another person. “Dan?”

“Who else would get stuck here with you?”

It was Dan! “Where are we?” Apparently, Dan and she had been tied back to back, arms to arms, waist to waist, their legs straight out in front of them, ankles tied tight.

“We’re in a cave, obviously.”

“How long?”

“I’m not wearing my watch, so I’d have to guess about half an hour or so.”

Margaret sighed in frustration. “What’s going on? What am I doing here?”

“You’re getting in the way.”

Now she sighed in irritation. “That’s not what I meant. I heard people fighting. Arguing. I went to see what was going on when –“

“I know. You found Duke. Or should I say, Duke found you? You made an awful lot of noise crashing through those bushes. It’s a good thing you’re so anti-hunter. You’d never make it if you had to put meat on the table yourself.”

“Hey! Why should I have tried to be quiet? You certainly weren’t! And who’s Duke? Another BWG?”

Dan laughed harshly. “Not in a million years! Duke is a guy I used to know in the city. He’s real bad news.”

“Who were you fighting?”

“Duke’s cousin, Kilroy.”

“No kidding. His name is Kilroy?”

“Yeah. As in ‘Kilroy was here’. It’s his street name, anyway. I don’t know what’s on his birth certificate. It’s from some old Styx song in the 80’s.”

“Plus there’s the obvious pun.”

“What pun?”

“’Kill Roy’.” She waited a minute, then felt Dan’s shoulders shaking. “Ha! I got you to laugh, at least.”

“Fat lot of good it’ll do me,” he muttered sourly.

“So. If I’m here because I wandered through the woods at the wrong time, are you here because you lost that fight?”

“No. I’m here because you wandered through the woods at the wrong time, too.”

Irritated at that remark, Margaret brought her head up sharply and banged it against Dan’s. She grinned at his ouch!, slightly regretting her own burgeoning headache. A moment passed in silence before Margaret asked, “So. What do we do now?”

“You mean, you’re not having fun?”

“I’m not usually this kinky.”

“’Usually’?” he repeated, and this time, they both laughed. “All right. Kilroy said he’d be back, but he didn’t say when. Honestly, I’ve got no idea how I’m going to get untied. What about you?”

She thought a moment. “You got anything on you? A tool or a weapon or something?”

He sighed. “No. Kilroy took everything. Even my wallet and keys.”

She squirmed in place, concentrating. “Drat. I think he emptied my pockets, too.”

“Gee. If only he’d let you keep your headband and your ballpoint pen,” he cracked. “We’d be so much better off.”

“You watched him search me?” She tried to turn her head, but could only clearly see Dan’s shoulder and a thick lock of his black hair.

“It was the highlight of my afternoon.”

“I feel so… so violated somehow, knowing you watched while some strange guy felt me up.”

“Huh. And getting knocked out and searched while unconscious. That’s not a violation?”

“Well…” She let the matter drop. A moment later, she said, “You know, a ballpoint could have helped us. If we could have stuck it in one of these knots, we could use the pen to help loosen it. I’m not sure what I could have done with the headband, though. Hey! He took my coat!”

“Yeah, he took mine, too. I’m freezing in this T-shirt. That’s a good idea about the pen, though. Wish we had something like that.”

“Yeah.” She thought a moment longer. “You know, if we could stand up, maybe we could shake loose some of these ropes. That’s how magicians get out of being tied up, you know.”

“Well, we can try. On the count of three, then, we’ll start to stand, okay? 1, 2 –“

“Wait! Wait a minute. Do you mean, 1-2-3 and go or 1-2 and go on 3?”

He thought a moment. “1-2-3 and go.”

“Okay. Count again.” She braced herself and as he counted ‘3’, she pushed back against him and struggled to pull up her knees and stand. Less than a second later, however, she yelled at him, “Stop pushing! You’re pushing too hard!”

“How can I be pushing too hard?” Dan’s irritation showed clearly in his voice. “Besides, you’re not pushing at all!”

“I am, too! Just give me a moment and count again.” She braced herself, summoned all her strength, closed her eyes and, when Dan reached 3, shoved with all her might against him. She fairly squeaked with excitement as she felt her butt lift off the ground. They were almost standing when she opened her eyes and shrieked.

Duke and Kilroy stood in the cave entrance, staring at them and shaking their heads sadly. “Will you look at that, cousin,” Duke was saying. “Our little birdies are trying to fly the coop.”

**

“It sure doesn’t take long to mobilize the neighborhood, does it?” Jim grinned, leaning over from his perch on top Jupiter. The late afternoon sun slanted through the trees, promising an early nightfall.

“Not when your parents are in charge of mobilization, it doesn’t,” Trixie agreed.

“And not once the word got out about Dan’s old gang possibly being involved. People around here don’t like the thought of something happening to him because of those losers.” Jim frowned, glancing around at the gathering search party. 

Once it had been decided that Margaret and Dan were missing and/or lost, a call had been put in to Manor House and a search party organized. The Beldens (save Helen and Bobby, who were put in charge of coordinating things at Crabapple Farm), the Wheelers (save Madeline and Celia, who were in charge of things there), the entire male staff of Manor House, and all the neighbors along Glen Road and some on Telegraph (including Mr. Lytell) had all come out to search. Some, like Jim and the remaining male Bob-Whites sat astride horses. Others planned to walk through the preserve in the hopes that the missing teens were off the beaten paths.

“Just like old times, ain’t it, Pete?” Mr. Hauer called sadly to Peter Belden, who nodded in reply.

Trixie moved casually to stand near her father. “What does that mean, Dad?” She casually observed the milling crowd. A few women had volunteered for the search party, but mostly, it was a crowd of men.

Peter smiled at his daughter. “Nothing for you to worry about, thank goodness.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Just that it was all a long time ago and that mystery’s solved.”

“What mystery?” When it looked as if her father wouldn’t answer, she asked him again, adding, “please tell me!”

He sighed. “Sweetie, relax. It all happened years ago. You were barely a year old. A little girl got lost in the woods around here and the search parties were out for days before they found her.”

Trixie shivered, but not from the cold. “Was she all right?” she asked hesitantly.

Peter’s eyes turned sad. “No, I’m afraid we weren’t in time to save her.”

“What happened?” She felt she had to know.

Her father heaved another sigh. “A catamount got to her first. It wasn’t a pretty sight and I don’t want you to think any more about it, understand? And I especially don’t want you upsetting your mother with any questions, either. She took the whole thing rather hard as you were just a baby yourself.”

Finally, Regan called for everyone’s attention. “Listen up! Just so we’re all clear. We’ve got two teenagers out there. One is my nephew, Dan. The other is a girl, Margaret Lang, a houseguest of the Wheelers. You all know what Dan looks like: black hair and dark eyes, about 5’ 11”. The girl’s got reddish hair, brown eyes and she’s maybe 5’ 2” and very thin. She’s got diabetes and we don’t know when she last took her medication, so she may be seriously ill by now. We don’t know if they’re together and neither one has been seen in at least five hours. Also, there is at least one and possibly more gang members out there, too, probably armed and definitely dangerous. If they have Dan or the girl, do not approach them but call for backup. Remember, Dan knows these woods. Probably better than any man out here except Maypenny. But the girl doesn’t know a thing about this area. If you find them alone, shoot twice in the air and then call Manor House on your cell phone. They’re waiting to provide further assistance. Everyone got that?” The searchers nodded. “Good. One more thing. Stay close to your partner. We don’t want to have to organize a search party to search for the search party. Good luck, everyone.”

They laughed briefly and Regan sent them all on their way. Peter and Brian started on foot toward the Hudson while Mart and Jim, on Starlight and Jupiter, started in the opposite direction, toward Glen Road. Honey and Trixie, not included in the search parties due to their age and gender, went into Maypenny’s cabin to wait.

“How long do you think this will take?” Honey asked.

“I hope not long. This is definitely a case where no news is not good news!” Trixie told her what her father said, about the other search party and the little girl.

“How horrible!” Honey gasped. “I hope Dan and Margaret are all right!”

“Well, you and I both know Dan’s okay. He can definitely take care of himself. It’s Margaret I’m worried about! She knows nothing about taking care of herself in the woods.” Trixie slumped onto Mr. Maypenny’s sofa.

“So. What should we do while we wait?” Honey asked.

They were alone in the cabin since Maypenny had gone to search the woods with the others. Outside, they knew Mr. Lytell was coordinating the search efforts, taking down cell phone numbers of those who had cell phones and issuing flashlights and maps to each team of searchers as they arrived. Since the police department couldn’t get involved officially until the teens were missing at least 24 hours, and the tag on Maypenny’s door had been officially classified as a possible prank, Molinson was there on an unofficial nature only. It was the first time Trixie could remember seeing the man in something other than a uniform. She hadn’t even recognized him until he spoke to her.

Now, however, the girls sat inside with nothing urgent to do, which was not Trixie’s natural state. Restlessly, she stood and paced. “I just wish we were allowed out there ourselves! It’s not like we’re not responsible and it’s not like we don’t know our way around these woods! Better than a lot of those people out there, anyway!”

Honey nodded. “I know. It just doesn’t seem very Bob-White-ish for us to sit and stare at the walls.”

“Hey. Where’s Diana?” Trixie asked suddenly.

Honey frowned. “I think I heard Mart say her mother had put her in charge of keeping Terry & Larry busy at Crabapple Farm. Your mom and hers are putting up refreshments and stuff and bringing it to Manor House for the men when they get done.”

“Oh, that’s right. I stuck her with Bobby Duty, didn’t I?” Trixie grinned sheepishly.

“Well,” Honey said, “you couldn’t help it you were already up here when the word went out, could you? I’m sure she’d rather be there, anyway. It’s more the center of things. This is just the starting point. When they’re found, the searchers are supposed to bring them to Manor House anyway, so Dr. Ferris can check them out. Di’ll probably see Dan and Margaret long before we do.”

“You’re right, as usual. Sensible Honey Wheeler.” Trixie grinned to take any sting out of her words. “So. You want to head to your house or – hey! I’ve got an idea!” Without saying another word, Trixie hurried up the stairs to the second floor.

“Trixie!” Honey scolded, getting off the sofa. “What are you doing? Where are you going? Hey! Wait for me!”

**

Dan and Margaret slumped back onto the ground, wincing a little at the impact. Margaret got her first good look at Duke and Kilroy.

Duke, she figured, was the smaller one. He stood maybe an inch taller than she did, but outweighed her by at least twenty pounds. He wore his dark hair close-cropped and, as he laughed at his own humor, she saw he had his name carved into his scalp. Kilroy, by comparison, wore his hair in a long, stringy ponytail and sported a small, infected cut on his left cheek. She guessed he weighed just the same as Duke, but stood about five inches taller. Duke wore an oversized, outdated winter coat while Kilroy wore Dan’s scarlet Bob-White jacket.

“I see you’ve noticed my new threads,” Kilroy smirked. “Got it real cheap, too.”

Margaret felt Dan stiffen, but when he didn’t reply, she kept her mouth shut, too. Instead, she concentrated on maintaining a blank expression as Kilroy smoothed his hand over the windbreaker. He approached the two of them slowly, an evil sort of grin playing over his thin lips. “What are you going to give me, huh, sugar?”

Kilroy crouched beside Margaret. He reached out a grimy hand and tucked her hair behind her right ear. He tapped the fading bruise on her cheek and chuckled. “Looks like I put my mark on you, all right.” He brandished his signet ring in front of her eyes, cackling softly.

Margaret felt herself tremble. She couldn’t defend herself from Kilroy now. What would stop him from hurting her again, possibly worse this time? She took a chance and glanced up into Kilroy’s eyes. They were hard and cold. She glanced away.

“Ooh, cousin. Looks like Danny-boy don’t like you messing with her, don’t it?” Duke joined his cousin, crouching on his left so he could see Dan better. He laughed again. “Do it again, cousin, and watch Dan’s expression. He looks like one of your pet rats do when you sic them on each other, don’t he?”

Kilroy stroked Margaret’s cheek and rubbed her neck, all the while staring at Dan’s face. Dan, meanwhile, controlled his rage and maintained a calm expression, staring at the back of the cave, memorizing the formations of the rocky strata.

Kilroy soon tired of his game when it became apparent Dan wasn’t going to provide much entertainment. “This ain’t no fun,” he growled and stood up.

“What’re you going to do now, Kilroy?” Duke asked, standing up beside his cousin.

“What do you think? I’m going to kill them both. But not before I have myself a little fun.”

Duke squealed and hopped a little in his shoes.

**

“Trixie! What are you doing up here in Dan’s room?” Honey hesitated before entering the bedroom, having never been above the ground floor in the cabin before. She glanced around, dismayed at the disarray. “What a mess. You know, I’d never have thought Mr. Maypenny would let Dan keep his room in such shambles as this.”

“I know,” Trixie agreed. “Or that any relative of Neat-Freak Regan could do it, either. Which makes me think there was someone up here.” She stood in the center of the chaos.

Honey’s eyes widened. “Why would someone come up here?”

“Think, Honey. I heard Mr. Maypenny say ‘up in his room’, or something like that. Someone tagged Mr. Maypenny’s front door as a warning to Dan. Why wouldn’t they come inside, too? We certainly weren’t interested in locking the door when we left to find the horses today. I’m not even sure there is a lock on the door.” Almost without thinking about what she was doing, Trixie began sorting through the piles of books that had once been on the shelves, clothes that had once been in the dressers and the blankets that had once been on the bed.

After a moment, Honey joined her. “So. Are we cleaning up or searching?”

Trixie thought. “A little of both, actually. I thought whoever’s been threatening Dan might have come up here, and we might find a clue to their whereabouts. And, I thought, if it had been searched, we might be doing Dan a favor by cleaning it all up before he got home. And, maybe we could figure out what whoever it was was interested in.”

“Uh-huh.” Honey started putting the room to rights by helping Trixie return the sheets and blankets to their original condition on the bed. Once they smoothed out the bedspread, Trixie collapsed onto the mattress and stared at the slanting ceiling.

“I wonder who’s after him,” Trixie mused.

“I wish we knew, too. Someone from the city, that’s for sure,” Honey sighed.

Trixie rolled onto her side. “Do you think it’s someone from that awful gang? Or someone from another gang getting back at him for something?”

“We don’t really know a lot about Dan’s past, do we?”

“No, we don’t. I guess I figured he’d tell us what he wanted us to know.” Trixie stared across the bedspread at Dan’s desk, his schoolwork crumpled and torn, his textbooks lying open, their spines cracked.

“Maybe he thinks we can’t handle it.”

“Yeah, right. We’ve handled worse than him, you know. He knows it, too,” Trixie scoffed.

Honey sank slowly down onto the bed beside Trixie. “No, I think he thinks we can’t handle the truth about him,” she said with more conviction. “I think he thinks if he were honest with us about his past, we’d treat him like a criminal or something.”

“You mean, we’d treat him like we treated him when we first met him two years ago?”

“Yeah. More like that. I can’t blame him for not wanting to go back to that.”

“Neither can I,” Trixie said slowly, sitting up on the bed. An expression of outrage and incredulity on her face, she got up from the bed and hurried to the desk.

“What’s going on? What did you find?” Honey joined Trixie at the desk, curious.

Trixie picked up a small, framed photograph and held it under the light.

Honey gasped and they stared at each other in horror and dismay. “Oh, my goodness!” Honey exclaimed. “Who would do such a thing?”

**

“You’re not really going to kill us, are you?” Margaret tried not to sound as terrified as she felt.

Duke and Kilroy just laughed. “You tell her, Danny-boy. Why do they all call me ‘Killer’?”

“Your bad breath?”

Kilroy’s fist connected solidly with Dan’s jaw, throwing his head back to knock into Margaret’s. “Hey!” she shrieked. “I didn’t say it!”

“Just goes to show that what happens to one of you is going to happen to the other one,” Duke sneered. “Ain’t that right, Kilroy?”

His cousin, however, turned to him in disgust. “I told you to call me ‘Killer’!”

Despite his aching jaw, Dan had to chuckle. “I guess they don’t ‘all’ call you Killer, do they?”

“Huh. They will. Especially after tonight, they will!” Kilroy nodded firmly.

“What can I do, huh? What can I do?” Duke piped up.

“Build a fire. It’s getting dark in here and this worthless jacket ain’t keeping out the cold.” Kilroy stalked to the back of the cave, opened a cooler and brought out a bottle of beer. He twisted off the cap, drank gustily and wiped his mouth with the jacket sleeve. He rather crudely indicated the need to answer nature’s call, so he left the cave and disappeared just outside of the entrance.

Duke didn’t speak. He gathered up some loose twigs and small branches from the trees just beyond the cave and brought them inside the opening. Margaret watched, amazed, as Duke heaped the twigs and branches in no particular order, well inside the cave opening. When he brought out a lighter and held it to a twig, she cried out, “What do you think you’re doing?”

Still holding the tiny flame to the twig, Duke growled, “Starting a fire! What’s it look like?”

“Well, yeah. But, in here?” She jerked her head in emphasis to indicate the cave.

Duke looked around. “Yeah. In here. Why not?”

“I should think that’d be obvious!”

Even more bewildered, and now growing angry, Duke retorted, “I ain’t sleeping out there in the cold and we don’t want no one to see the light, so why should I build the fire out there?”

Margaret just shook her head. “Forget it. You’re right. Why should I care anyway? You two want us dead, for some unknown reason, what does it matter if you kill us by direct action or not?”

“What do you mean, direct action?” The twig finally caught flame. Smiling, Duke laid the twig on top of the heap of wood, then frowned as the flame died.

Margaret laughed as silently as she could. “I mean that, if you ever manage to set fire to something, the smoke and noxious gases that such a fire would produce would suffocate us all first. See?” She looked up at the cave ceiling. “There’s no passage for the smoke to leave, and the cave is higher inside than at the entrance, so there’s no ventilation. Of course, the way you’re going, you won’t start a fire at all, so I guess I shouldn’t be worried about it.”

Duke followed her gaze to the roof of the cave, then stared at his pile of twigs. His second attempt to light them failed also. He glanced outside, but Kilroy hadn’t yet returned. He looked at Margaret. “What do you think I should do?”

“For Pete’s sake, Margaret! You’re not going to tell him, are you?” Dan finally had to say something. Was she really trying to help these guys?

“Well, I’ve got nothing better to do. And besides, these guys have no reason to hurt me. You, I am sure, have contributed to their list of grievances against the world more times than Einstein could calculate. Why should I suffer the same fate as you? If I’m nice and cooperative, maybe they’ll only rough me up a little. I think I could handle that.”

Dan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She couldn’t be serious. Could she? What did he really know about her, anyway? Maybe she was going into shock or something. “Did you take your insulin today?”

Loud laughter burst from Margaret’s lips. “Of course, I did! Why else would I be thinking so clearly?” She looked at Duke. “Are you going to take my advice or not?”

Duke looked thoughtful, but said only, “I’ll have to ask Kilroy what he thinks.”

“Oh. I see.” Margaret nodded sagely. “Kilroy does all the thinking and you do all the work. Typical.”

“What do you mean? I do some thinking, too!”

“Of course you do. In fact, I’m positive you do. You probably have lots of plans and schemes you’re just itching to try out, but you can’t tell Kilroy, can you?”

“Why not?”

Margaret tried to shrug. “It’s easy to figure out that you’re the smarter one and Kilroy knows it. If you were to come up with a good idea, a good plan, it would prove to everyone that you don’t need him to get along in the world. You can get by yourself.”

“You know, you’re right about that! I’ve got plans! I’m not going to be no penny-ante thief the rest of my life, no! I’ve got dreams and ambitions, same as anyone!”

Now, she tried to look interested. “Tell me some of them!”

Duke sat cross-legged by his pile of sticks. “Well, sure. Now you ask I can’t think of none. But let’s see. There’s the Wells Fargo trucks, see? And they follow the same route every day. All we need is enough guys with guns and to get the truck just after its last stop. Just go in and hijack it. We could be sitting pretty in Jamaica before the cops would even have time to –“ He broke off as Kilroy reappeared in the cave entrance.

“The temperature’s been dropping so fast I just made ice cubes! Ha! What’s going on here? Where’s the stinking fire?” Kilroy tossed his empty bottle onto the cave floor and stared at Duke and the flameless sticks.

“Aww, Killer! It won’t do us any good to build a fire in here!” Duke complained.

“Why not? I told you already that we can’t build a fire where someone will see it and I’m not sleeping outside, neither!”

Duke glanced at Margaret, then stood up. “Any fool could see it, Killer. We build in here and we get all kinds of gas. There’s no ventilation. See? The roof is higher than the entrance.”

Kilroy grunted. “All I see is you on your lazy butt, talking it up with my chick.”

“Your chick? I thought you said we could share!”

Margaret felt herself shrink against Dan’s back. She felt the brush of his hair against the back of her head as he turned to whisper, “Don’t worry. You’re safe with me. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She whispered back, “If you can help it, you mean.”

“Hey, you two! Enough of that! No talking or I’ll have to gag you both!” Kilroy came closer to them. Margaret stared mutely up at him and shivered.

**

“Probably the same guy who tagged the front door, that’s who did this!” Trixie stared at the photograph, completely dismayed by all it represented.

Honey took the picture and held it closer under the light. “Wow. Regan’s sister sure was beautiful! Look at that gorgeous red hair!”

“Yeah, and Dan’s dad sure was a hunk, even if he did need a haircut.”

“Trixie! He was a musician. That’s just the way all the guys in those 80’s rock bands wore their hair. Haven’t you ever seen those commercials for those compilation CDs like Monsters of Rock? He looks exactly like one of those guys from Warrant or Winger or something. He’s not so out of fashion, you know. It’s just that styles change. Thank goodness!” She giggled.

Trixie smiled half-heartedly. “Unfortunately, this picture’s now ruined. Look how someone tried to yank it from the frame. It’s all bent and wrinkled.”

“And marked up with that horrid dagger-shaped ‘tag’,” Honey added. “Another threat.”

“Notice how the tag is just over the baby’s face? What do you think that means?” Trixie asked.

“That it’s someone who knows Dan, at least well enough to recognize his baby picture,” Honey said thoughtfully.

Trixie nodded. “And someone who didn’t threaten his parents. Probably because he knows they’re already dead. But that baby doesn’t particularly look like Dan. I mean, all babies kind of look alike, you know?”

“So the tagger knows this is Dan’s parents and that this is a picture of his whole family?”

Honey handed the photo back to Trixie, who took the time to loosen the frame and remove the picture. “Hey! There’s an inscription on the back. Oh, Honey!” she breathed as she read it. “It’s so sad! Sweet, but sad. It reads: ‘For the most wonderful wife in the whole world. My heart sings when you are near. Happy birthday. Love, Tim. March 198-.’ This was her birthday present!”

Honey just stared at Trixie for a moment, tears welling up in her eyes. Then her face changed and she spit out, “I am just so angry that anyone could just waltz on up here and deface Dan’s private, personal property! Well, he’s just not going to get away with it, just let me tell you!” Indignation distorted Honey’s normally serene expression.

“Don’t worry! He won’t!” Trixie agreed. “Now, if only I had an idea how to do that.”

The two girls sat down on the edge of Dan’s bed, deep in thought. Trixie’s brain kept whirling and swirling the events of the past two days, throwing everything up against the wall of Dan’s unknown past, hoping something would stick.

She knew that Dan’s gang had a reputation for being brutal. She also knew their members had associates in all sorts of criminal fields. She also knew that Dan was a whole two years away from gang life. What would be the profit for them to come back and rustle an ex-gang member back into the city?

Then it hit her. The other thing she saw on that news report about gangs.

There were no such things as ‘ex-gang members’.

**

“What did you do to him to make him hate you so much?” Margaret whispered over her shoulder. Kilroy and Duke had given up on making a fire inside the cave. Kilroy finally figured out there wasn’t adequate ventilation for the smoke, so he had Duke drag the branches and twigs outside. After several moments, they had a small fire going which provided little in the way of heat or light.

Dan whispered back, “I’ve never done anything to him. This is all about something else.”

“Well, if I’m going to have to suffer because of it, don’t you think I’d better know why?”

Dan sighed. “It’s a long story and most of it really doesn’t concern you.”

“Hey. I’m not going anywhere and I’ve got nothing better to do. Besides, maybe it’ll take my mind off my bladder.” There was silence, and then she felt Dan’s shoulders shaking. “You’re laughing at me, aren’t you. Aren’t you?”

He couldn’t contain it any longer. “Yes! Yes, I am laughing at you! God, I wouldn’t be a girl for nothing. Girls are forever going to the bathroom.”

Margaret shook her head. “Just because guys have all that extra room to carry it around, doesn’t mean-“

“Hey! What’s going on in there? I thought I said no talking!” Kilroy stomped back inside the cave, waving around his second beer bottle.

Dan tried, but couldn’t stop laughing. Kilroy’s vicious kick to his ribs helped.

“Hey!” Margaret cried. “You almost missed him and hit me!”

“Sorry, sister, but I don’t care.” Kilroy glared at her. “What were you two talking about?”

“Dan was just about to tell me why you want him dead.”

“Oh. This ought to be good. Hey, Duke!” Kilroy shouted, drawing his cousin’s attention from the flickering fire. “Come on in here. Danny-boy’s going to tell us the story of why we hate him so much!”

Duke scampered inside and grabbed a beer for himself. He grinned. “I wonder if he’ll leave out any of the important details.”

“Excuse me?” Margaret broke in hopefully.

“What do you want?” Kilroy barked.

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

Kilroy laughed. “There ain’t a bathroom around here for miles. You want I should drive you to the gas station?”

“Well, that would certainly be more sanitary, but any old bush would do. As long as it’s a private bush, that is.”

“No way. We untie you and Danny-boy here takes advantage and escapes. Or you do. It don’t matter. You ain’t going.”

Duke giggled. “That’s funny, Killer. You said, ‘you ain’t going’. Like going to the-“

“Yeah, yeah. I’m a real laugh riot.”

“Come on! I’m about to wet my pants!” Margaret beseeched Kilroy. “Please!” When they didn’t seem to be all that empathetic, she added, “It’ll stink up the cave if I have to go in here!”

Kilroy considered it then, and said, “Well, all right. As long as Danny-boy understands what we’re going to do if there’s any trouble.” He stared directly into Dan’s eyes. “If she tries to escape, Duke here is going to slit Dan’s throat. Got that?”

“Umm, pardon me for pointing out the obvious,” Margaret began slowly, “but what do I care if he lives or dies? We just met yesterday. And aren’t you going to kill him anyway?”

“Margaret!” Dan said, disbelievingly. “Why don’t you just shut up for once?”

Kilroy’s eyes blazed. “Fine! Fine, then if you try to escape, I’ll slit your throat, Miss Smarty-Pants!”

“Oh,” Margaret shrank back from Kilroy’s glare. “You’re right,” she said, subdued. “That I would care about.”

After several moments, Duke finally had Margaret untied from Dan. He pulled her roughly to her feet. “Come on, let’s go!” Kilroy ordered and began to walk outside. 

Margaret, however, could barely move. Sharp, shooting pains traveled up and down her legs as blood rushed to her feet. Her arms, stiff from their enforced inactivity, felt like heavy weights dragging down her shoulders. Seeing that she wasn’t moving, Duke pushed her forward and she stumbled heavily after Kilroy.

Duke crouched next to Dan, holding the sharp edge of his switchblade up against his pulsing jugular. Dan forced himself to remain calm and not think of the blade, but just try to get blood flowing back into his own legs and arms. Because Margaret had been keeping him sitting upright, without her behind him, he laid flat on his back. He felt very cold, but fought off the shivers his body kept inducing as a way to maintain heat. Shivering would make him appear weak, and cowards like Duke and Kilroy preyed on the weak and helpless.

Almost ten minutes passed before Kilroy brought Margaret, kicking and cursing, back into the cave. He carried her, fireman-style, over one shoulder, her butt in the air, her legs flying in front, her fists beating against his legs and back. Kilroy shoved her off him into a heap on the ground. “Tie her up again,” he ordered Duke. “The little witch scratched me!”

“Well, you wouldn’t turn around! Serves you right for staring at me,” Margaret fairly shouted. “I didn’t realize you were such a sick pervert!”

“You tried to escape! You took off into the woods. You’re lucky I found you, or you’d have gone right over those cliffs into the river!”

Dan closed his eyes in relief. Without a doubt, he now knew exactly where they were. Finally, he could put his plan into action.


	6. Photographs and Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search party is underway, but Trixie finds all the clues she needs at Maypenny's cottage. At least Dan and Margaret are together. Trouble is, they're not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again: warning for inaccurate medical info. If you ever lose consciousness, particularly after being hit in the head, please seek emergency care immediately (once you wake up). The number of times I've knocked out my fictional characters is amazing to me. I've given them all brain damage.
> 
> This is the part where the underage sex, prostitution, drugs and violence comes in, though in actuality, it's a fairly dry recitation of Dan's experiences in his street gang. Let me know if you think I should adjust the tags or add more warnings for future readers. My stories tend toward the adult end of the pool and I'm losing sight of what's considered "appropriate."

Dan’s Room, Mr. Maypenny’s Cottage  
Immediately following

 

“Let’s finish putting Dan’s room in order. It’s driving me crazy not doing anything when there’s so much to do.” Honey pushed herself up off the bed and began sorting through the myriad paperbacks and hard covers that sprawled across the desk and floor. “I wonder,” she said as she examined the various titles and authors, “if this stuff is as good as they say. It just seems so boring. Robots and aliens and stuff like that.”

Trixie began refolding Dan’s clothes and replacing them into his dresser, hoping to distract herself from her worries. “My Uncle Andrew reads some of that stuff, and so does Mart, of course, but I know what you mean. It seems so… so…”

“Boring?” Honey supplied helpfully.

“Well, it isn’t Lucy Radcliffe.” She grinned to herself. Nothing would ever replace Lucy Radcliffe in her heart. She concentrated on folding Dan’s shirts and laying them in place, a bit startled to see a small shoebox tucked into the back of the drawer. Curious, she tried to ignore it, but the lid, laying half across the opening, revealed the contents. “Look at this, Honey! Come here!”

Honey joined Trixie at the dresser. “What’s that? Hey! Where’d you get that mitten?”

Trixie lifted a small, bright blue knit mitten into the light. “It was just lying there, in that box.” She handed it to Honey.

With a practiced eye, Honey examined the mitten. “It’s handmade,” she reported. “And a really nice job, too.”

Thoughtfully, Trixie returned the mitten. Several items in the shoebox vied for her attention, including a ticket stub to a midnight showing of ‘Rocky Horror’; a pair of baseball tickets from 8 years before, untorn, Yankees vs. Cubs; a small, ring-sized jewelry box, open and empty; a strip of 4 black and white photographs from a $2 vending machine, of a younger Dan and a pretty girl Trixie didn’t recognize: snapshots depicted both smiling, him kissing her cheek, her kissing his cheek, both kissing each other; a bent horseshoe nail; and, a group picture of the Bob-Whites at their 4th of July cookout: everyone arm in arm in arm with barbecue sauce all over their faces and clothes.

Honey sighed. “Well, I did say we should try to get to know him better. But I don’t think snooping through his personal things is the way to go about it.”

Guiltily, Trixie slammed the lid back down on the box. “You’re absolutely right. I’ll remember to apologize.”

“And then ask about the girl in those photographs. I know you, Trixie Belden!” Honey smiled to ease the sting from her rebuke, then returned to her task, replacing the books on the shelves.

Trixie hurried through the rest of the refolding. As she slammed the last drawer shut, she heard Honey exclaim, “Hello! What’s this?” Trixie turned to see Honey holding up another photograph.

“Who’s it of?” Trixie asked. Wordlessly, Honey handed it to her. Trixie stared at the picture of a small girl, not more than 2 years old, standing in the middle of a sunny field, flowers in her long brown hair, wearing a bright yellow sundress, giggling at the camera. Trixie flipped the photo over, but there was no helpful inscription. “Okay, who do you think this is?”

Honey thought a moment, pursing her lips. “Well, it’s in Dan’s copy of Foundation, so it must be a relative of Dan’s.”

Trixie nodded. “His mother? But, no. This is a color photograph. Did they have color photographs back then?”

Honey just flashed Trixie the ‘of course, silly!’ look. “I don’t think it’s his mother, though. Look at her picture when she’s older.” She held up the family portrait. “See? And this girl’s hair is clearly brown. There’s not that much similar about them. Besides, Dan’s mother was 17 when she had him, so this picture would have to be what, 35 or so years old? It seems much newer than that.”

“I guess. She doesn’t look much like Mr. Mangan either, does she.”

“No,” Honey agreed. “She could look like Dan, though. I’ve seen that expression on his face before.”

“A giggle? No way.”

“Well, not the giggle. But the way his eyes crinkle up sometimes when he laughs.”

Trixie thought about it. “Maybe. So if it’s not his mother or one of his father’s relatives, but it looks sort of like Dan…” Her heart stopped. “No. You don’t think…”

Honey did think that, though. “I can’t even complete the thought in my head! Do you really think –“

“That this little girl is Dan’s daughter? I don’t know! I mean, gleeps!”

**

Duke retied Margaret to Dan’s back, relishing his task to the point where Margaret was sure she’d have permanent impressions of ropes and knots on her insides. Years from now, she thought, medical students would be given the task of determining just what caused her to die. ‘Not diabetes’, they would say, ‘but a severe case of rope burn’.

“What’re we going to do now, Killer?” Duke asked after tightening the last knot.

“I still want to hear Danny-boy’s story. Come on, Danny-boy,” Kilroy urged, nudging Dan’s legs with his shoe, “I want to know if you know why I went to all this trouble.”

Dan grunted. “Of course, I know why. Because of Eldon.”

“Who’s Eldon?” Margaret muttered sourly.

“That’s right! Well, what do you know! Danny-boy guessed it!” Kilroy leaned in close to Dan’s face. “Frankly, I’m surprised you had the guts to say his name.”

“Who’s Eldon?” Margaret repeated, louder this time.

“Why shouldn’t I have the guts to say his name? He was my best friend,” Dan replied evenly.

“Will somebody tell me who in blazes is Eldon?” Margaret insisted loudly.

“Watch your mouth, sweetheart,” Duke admonished.

Margaret stared up at the smaller guy. “I just want to know who this Eldon person is!”

“Tell her,” Kilroy told Dan, jerking his chin in Margaret’s direction. “Tell her all about ‘your best friend Eldon’.”

Dan hesitated, then complied. “Eldon lived downstairs from my Mom and me when we moved after my dad died. We were in the same class at school, so we rode the subway together and got to be pretty good friends. Then one of Eldon’s other friends got him into a gang. Eldon wanted me to join it, too, so I did.”

Kilroy interrupted. “That’s right! Eldon took you in and made you a member of the gang. And how did you repay him, huh? With your knife in his back.”

“Just who’s telling this story, you or me?” Dan said, a threat in his voice. Kilroy gestured for Dan to continue. “Fine. I joined the gang. We had a lot of fun and did a lot of stupid things, too. That summer before everything happened we were as close as real brothers—“

“No! You weren’t that close,” Kilroy said. “I should know.”

“Whatever. Anyway, we met this girl one night we were out in Times Square. Her name was Darci. Eldon and me, we took her out, we showed her around New York. She was a runaway from Providence,” he added for Margaret’s benefit, “and a real nice girl-“

“Yeah, real nice,” Kilroy smirked.

Margaret glanced over her shoulder. “Why did she run away from home? What was she doing in New York?”

“Who cares about that?” Kilroy asked. He slapped Dan on the shoulder. “Get on with it already!”

“Fine, fine,” Dan agreed. “But quit interrupting.” He waited for some kind of reply, but Kilroy just kept his mouth closed. “So, Darci ended up pregnant. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised, since it’s an occupational hazard of girls forced into her line of work-“

“Wait a minute. Darci was a prostitute?” Margaret asked, startled.

Dan sighed. “Yeah. Some of the time. Mostly, she was a mule.”

“Excuse me?”

“A mule, idiot! A mule!” Kilroy snapped. “Now you quit interrupting!”

“A mule is a person who transports drugs or stolen property. It’s the most thankless job in the organization. Hooking was a step up since she got to keep some of her money,” Dan explained. “Anyway, she ended up pregnant-“

“Who was the father? One of her customers or one of you two?” she asked bluntly. She felt Dan stiffen and heard Duke giggle.

“It wasn’t me,” Dan said tightly, “I was careful.”

Margaret understood the unspoken confession. “So, what happened? Did she have the baby?”

“Yeah, Danny-boy. Tell her what happened to the baby!” Kilroy sneered.

Dan was silent for a long time. Margaret wished she could see his face, to try and see if she could tell what he was thinking. For some reason, Kilroy and Duke remained silent, too. Then Dan spoke once more, his voice hollow.

“The baby died. You know that. Darci had a miscarriage when one of her ‘customers’ knocked her around too much and left her bleeding on the floor. I found her, called an ambulance, but it was too late. She died soon after reaching the hospital.”

“Oh, no!” Margaret gasped, her heart going out to Dan, who was obviously pained at having to relate the incident. “What happened then?”

“I knew how Eldon felt about Darci, so when I finally figured out she was gone – see, they found and told only her parents, so I had to get an orderly to tell me what happened – I went to see Eldon to tell him. I found him in his room, lying on the bed, beaten and bloody beyond recognition. I called an ambulance, but this time, I knew I was too late. He was DOA. There were stab wounds all through him.”

“That is NOT what happened!” Kilroy yelled, his words echoing through the cave. “You killed him yourself and you called the ambulance only when you thought you might get jammed up over what you did.”

“I did not!” Dan retorted through gritted teeth. “I tried to save him, but no matter how many times I tell you that, you don’t believe me! Eldon was my best friend. I did not try to kill him, and I am not happy he’s dead!”

“You killed him! You killed my brother in cold blood! Admit it!” Kilroy’s rage purpled his face while his fists flexed furiously.

**

“What are you girls doing up here in Daniel’s room?”

Trixie and Honey turned, guilty expressions on their faces, to see Mr. Maypenny standing in the doorway. “Oh!” Trixie said. “What are you doing back so soon? Have they found them?”

“No,” Maypenny answered slowly. “Spartan threw a shoe, so I came back to see how else I could help, since Regan’s on Cranberry. I saw lights up here and came to see what was going on. So. What’s going on?”

Honey smiled reassuringly. “It’s okay, Mr. Maypenny. We were just cleaning up Dan’s room for him. It was a mess.”

“Yes, it was,” he agreed slowly. “What have you got there?” He gestured at the photo in her hand.

Honey gave it to him. “We were just wondering if you knew who that little girl is. She’s awfully cute.”

Trixie watched carefully as Mr. Maypenny’s expression changed from pleasant curiosity to shock to sadness. “Where did you find this?” he asked.

Honey lifted the book. “In here. It just fell out when I was replacing it on the shelf.”

Maypenny nodded. “I see. I had wondered where this was.”

“Who is it?” Trixie prompted. “You haven’t said.”

Maypenny suddenly seemed very old, his eyes haunted by terrible memories. “It’s no one, anymore. She’s… dead. A long time, now.” He still stared at the photo, touching it with one callused fingertip. Shaking loose of the mood that had overcome him, he glanced up at each girl. “It doesn’t belong in here. I’ll take it.” He nodded at them and said, “You’re doing a good job. Dan will be pleased. He hates a messy room, thank goodness.”

They watched as Mr. Maypenny turned and went down the hall to his own room, shutting his door behind him. They turned, wide-eyed, to each other. “What was that all about?” Trixie asked.

“Oh, Trix! Do you think that was his-, no, that doesn’t make sense. Why would he have a baby picture of her? And it’s still a way too recent photograph for that to be the case…”

“Honey! What are you talking about? Who wouldn’t he have a baby picture of?”

Honey’s hazel eyes filled with anguish as she explained, “Oh, Trixie! I just found out yesterday morning that Mr. Maypenny had a wife a long time ago. Isn’t that sad? She must have died.”

Trixie’s blue eyes turned confused. “Since when? He’s never been married.”

“But I heard your mother say to Regan and Dan that Mrs. Maypenny had given her the recipe for her special buttermilk biscuits. I don’t really think she meant his mother. No,” she said slowly, “I distinctly remember her saying ‘his wife’, meaning Mr. Maypenny’s. Not his father’s. Am I making sense?”

Trixie giggled. “About as much sense as ever! It’s a good thing I speak fluent Honey Wheeler!” Then a thought struck her. “You know, I wish he hadn’t taken that picture from us. That little girl still looks really familiar.”

“Did she? Once I knew she wasn’t Dan’s little girl, I sort of gave up on that. Do you think it’s maybe Mr. Maypenny’s little girl? Your mother didn’t say anything about children, though,” Honey said.

Trixie turned thoughtful again. “Remember when we met Mr. Maypenny and he said his family had lived in this area for the past 150 or so years?” 

“Yeah…”, Honey said slowly, not liking where this was heading.

“I remember seeing a graveyard around here. Maybe that could shed some light on this.”

“Ick. You want to go creeping around a graveyard in the middle of winter while some strange guy is stalking the woods?” Honey shivered.

“Not a graveyard, a family plot. Lots of old, established families have them. Like old Miss Martin out by the marshes. Not everyone gets buried in the churchyard. You know, I think I remember seeing one last summer when we were out here.” She pointed through the window at the blackness outside. “I think you should be able to see it in the daytime from this very window. It’s not all that far away.” She looked at her best friend and nodded firmly. “We should definitely go check out the family plot. Besides. What else do you have scheduled?”

“Nothing, I guess,” Honey agreed. “Until Dan and Margaret are found, of course.”

The girls finished cleaning up Dan’s room, then hurried out the back door of the cabin toward the Maypenny family plot or, at least, Trixie’s recollection of the location. They found the fenced-in yard rather easily. Trixie produced her ever-present Maglite and soon they were inside the gate.

“Try and see if you can figure out the order these go in,” Trixie suggested, looking at row after row of tombstones, some crumbling with age, others sunk halfway into the ground, others still firmly upright.

“Okay,” Honey agreed. “This one looks like-jeepers! Marta van Poole Maypenny, beloved wife and mother, 1880-1898! How sad. She died so young.” They moved on. “Here’s Martie’s husband, Matthias Maypenny, 1879-1954.”

Trixie sighed. “Here’s old Matthias’s second wife, Ethel van Anderson Maypenny, 1890-1950. At least Matthias and Ethel had more time together.”

“I wonder if these are Mr. Maypenny’s parents,” Honey said abruptly. “That might explain why they’re here in front. Usually the older graves are in back, aren’t they?”

“Sometimes,” Trixie agreed. “But I think it depends on when. Mostly, it seems, people get buried in groups according to when they died. At least, that’s the way it seems in the churchyard in town. All the 1700-1750s are in one area, then the 1750-1800s people are in another. Like that.” She shone the flashlight to the next row of tombstones.

Honey sighed. “Those must be some of Matthias’s brothers and sisters.” They read off the list of names and ages.

“This is just depressing me,” Trixie admitted. “Let’s try over there. Those seem newer.”

They walked across the main pathway to the still-upright headstones. Trixie played the flashlight over the first stone. Wordlessly, she stared at Honey. She moved the light to the second stone. Abruptly, she twisted off the light. “Well, I guess we know who that little girl was,” Trixie said softly.

Honey brushed a tear from her eye. “We certainly do. Poor Mr. Maypenny!”

**

Margaret was confused for just a moment. “Wait, Eldon was your brother? Huh. That makes sense.”

“Yeah, genius! Eldon was my brother. He was! He’s dead now, no thanks to Dan!” Kilroy spat.

“But you heard him. He got there too late. How is it Dan’s fault he died?” she replied reasonably.

Suddenly, Kilroy was in her face. “Because he killed him himself! Everyone knows how vicious Dan gets when he’s mad. He’s put lots of guys in the hospital!”

Margaret still had a question. “What would be his motive for killing him, though? Was Eldon the father of Darci’s baby?”

“No,” Kilroy bit out, “Eldon respected Darci too much to slip her $50 and knock boots!”

Dan couldn’t keep his silence any longer. “I never paid Darci! Eldon understood that Darci and I were together. I knew how he felt about her, and he seemed to be okay with how she felt about me.”

“Yeah. Right,” Kilroy scoffed. “You mean, he trusted her with you! And you got her knocked up and you beat her up and in your guilt you went to Eldon and when he threatened to tell the police, you killed him. Didn’t you!”

“I told you what happened! I told everybody. The gang understood. Criminey, the cops understood,” Dan said, forcing desperation from his voice.

“Well, I believe you, Dan,” Margaret said quietly. “It sounds like someone else has a guilty conscience, though.”

Suddenly, Kilroy’s hand clenched her throat and began squeezing hard. “What did you say?” A wild expression in his eyes, he stared at her. “Say it again. I dare you! I double-dare you!”

Margaret found it difficult to breathe. Kilroy’s fingers hadn’t just grabbed her neck, they had found her windpipe and were squeezing, closing it off. She heard herself gasping for air and struggling against the ropes that still tied her. She heard shouting and cursing, but it all seemed from a long way off. The firelight swirled around her and then she saw nothing.

**

“You know,” Trixie said slowly. “I think I know where I’ve seen that little girl before.” Before Honey could ask, Trixie turned and hurried out of the graveyard. “Come on, Honey! We need to hurry!”

Honey nearly tripped over an exposed tree root, but she kept up with her friend. They reentered Maypenny’s cabin, grabbed their things, shouted their good-byes to Mr. Lytell, still coordinating his end of the search, and rushed down the trail toward home.

They saw a few of the search parties, beating bushes and searching the undergrowth for clues. Each one, however, confirmed that neither teen had been spotted yet, but as the night was still young, they held out great hopes.

“Hey, Trixie Belden! Where are you going off in such a hurry?”

They turned, startled to hear a more familiar voice call for them. “Sergeant Molinson!” Trixie called out. “What’s up?”

“Just what I asked you, Miss Belden,” he replied evenly, stepping out onto the path in front of them. “Evening, Miss Wheeler.”

Honey returned his greeting politely, and added, “We’re just going to my house to wait for the search results. Have you found anything at all?”

Molinson’s eyes turned troubled. “No, nothing. Which bothers me. Dan should know these woods too well to get lost, which makes me hope he’s found Margaret and is keeping her company somewhere.”

“You don’t think they’ve run off together or something, do you?” Trixie asked worriedly.

“Now why would you think something like that?” Molinson asked.

“No reason. Just that she ran away once to get here. Maybe she’s run away again.”

Molinson eyed her speculatively. “If you know anything about this, you should tell the police immediately. Any delay in finding them could result in a tragedy.”

“Just like what happened before,” Trixie said thoughtfully.

“Just like when?” Molinson asked, then his expression changed. “How did you hear about that?”

“Were you in on that search, too?” Trixie asked eagerly. “Tell me about it.”

“Hold on. That’s not a tale for young ladies to hear,” he insisted.

“But it happened to a little girl. My father told me some of it. Why shouldn’t we be allowed to know the details?”

Molinson rubbed his face wearily. “All right. Here’s the facts. Yes, I was ‘in on’ that search, too, as you put it, but I wasn’t in charge or anything. I had just graduated high school and my father agreed that I could help the rest of the men search for that little girl.”

“It was horrible what happened, wasn’t it,” Honey said. It was not a question.

Molinson said, “Yes, it was. You sure you want to hear about this?”

“We do,” Trixie said, with a glance to Honey. “Please, go on.”

“Fine. She had been missing most of the day when the call went out for search & rescue volunteers. Now, I didn’t actually find her, but my father was with the group that did and he told me what they found. And that is definitely not something you girls need to hear,” Molinson said.

Trixie tried to look professional and detached. “You mean, because wild animals had gotten there first?”

Honey folded her arms over her stomach and hugged herself tightly. Molinson glanced from one girl to the other. He nodded. “Now, suppose you tell me why you girls are so interested?”

“Just one more thing,” Trixie urged. “How did you know for sure who it was?”

“What do you mean?” Molinson asked. “Of course, we knew. We found the clothes nearby and she matched the physical description.”

“Which was-?”

“A little girl, brown hair and eyes, about 2 years old. And before you ask another question, there’s more. There were no reports of any missing children of that age in Westchester County that year. None at all. What’s more, there weren’t any unidentified bodies found, either.”

“Isn’t that unusual?” Trixie asked.

“Not really. Not when you consider how the FBI’s been pushing children’s fingerprinting and even video-printing. Dental records, too. This is a pretty savvy area. Lots of rich folks who would spare no expense in protecting their children from such things.”

Honey nodded. “I remember Daddy having me fingerprinted when I was five. He got Jim’s prints, too, just in case.”

Trixie nodded, too. “Yeah, and I remember when the bank had that promotion a couple years back, and Moms brought in Bobby to be video-printed. But still, not everybody does that. And not everybody did that 12 years ago.”

“I’ve been really patient, answering all your questions. Suppose you finally tell me what’s going on?” Molinson demanded, his hands on his hips.

Trixie hesitated, then said, “I’m not sure, but this is what I think happened.” And she told him.

Several minutes later, Honey, Trixie and Sergeant Molinson hurried down the trail to Manor House.

**

“You want to kill me, go ahead. But let her go! She knows nothing about any of this. She’s not who you’re really angry at, I am. So just kill me and be done with it!” Dan heard the panic in his own voice but didn’t care. If one more person died because of him -! He felt Margaret slump forward, her body pulling his off-balance.

Kilroy grabbed Dan’s neck and shoved his face up close. “I plan on it, Danny-boy! Believe me! There’s nothing I want more than to avenge my brother’s death! And that’s what I’m going to do. When I heard how you were living it up, sitting pretty with all these rich friends, all high-and-mighty, refusing to do a solid to your old pals, your brothers, your real family, I knew just what I had to do. Justice, that’s what! It was up to me. Don’t ask me why that judge let you come back here, away from your brothers, away from me, but I never had no faith in the legal system, no how. This is the only justice I believe in!” Angrily, he pushed Dan sideways onto the cave floor and stood.

Duke, however, had long since stopped giggling. He looked up at his cousin. “What did she mean, ‘guilty conscience’?”

“What?” Kilroy turned his full attention on the smaller boy.

“Just that. She said someone here had a guilty conscience. Well, it ain’t me. I never even met this Darci person. It wouldn’t have made you so upset if it were Dan’s, so… I’m asking. Whose guilty conscience?” As bold as he dared, he looked straight into Kilroy’s face. “Is it yours?”

Without another word, Kilroy’s fist connected with Duke’s jaw and the back of Duke’s head connected with the rocky strata on the cave wall. As Duke slid down the wall, trailing blood, Kilroy shouted at him. “Come on, Duke! Get up!”

Struggling to pull himself and Margaret upright, Dan managed to say, “You’ve killed again, haven’t you, ‘Killer’.”

Kilroy whirled, focusing on Dan. “I ain’t done nothing! I ain’t never killed no one!”

Dan just grinned. “You are such a liar. No wonder Eldon hated you so much.”

“He didn’t hate me! He hated you!”

“No, that’s not so,” Dan said evenly. “He told me all about you. How you stole money from your parents for booze and drugs. How you used to rob the collection plate at church. How you bullied the younger kids in the schoolyard. And how you used to rough up the girls you dated. Just like you roughed up Margaret in the woods the other night.”

Kilroy’s face purpled again with rage. “She’s lying! They all are lying! She asked me, she begged me to take her! I was just doing what she wanted-!”

“If that were true, why did you have to hit her so hard your brother’s ring marked her face?”

Kilroy held up his hand and stared at the signet ring on his third finger. “Eldon’s ring?”

“Yeah. I recognized that mark right away. I remember when Eldon bought that ring from a pawnshop on 42nd. I helped him pick it out, in fact. You know, now that I think about it, Eldon wasn’t wearing that ring when he died. I wonder why.”

“He gave it to Darci,” Kilroy replied. His gaze turned inward as he continued. “He wanted her to know how he felt and she laughed at him. She said she was in love with someone else.” He glared at Dan, pure hatred in his eyes. “She was in love with you, you scum! He had no choice but to smack her around. Is it my fault she couldn’t handle it?”

Dan felt very cold inside, an old, familiar feeling he thought he had long since escaped. “Now, why should it be your fault, if you weren’t even there?”

Kilroy snapped out of his trance. “Exactly! It’s not my fault, it’s yours!”

Dan frowned. “Now, how could it be mine if Eldon is the one who killed Darci? That doesn’t make much sense.” He felt Margaret stir and heard a soft moan. He tried to signal her to remain still and quiet.

Kilroy frowned. “But it is your fault Eldon’s dead. You’re trying to trick me! You killed Eldon for killing your girlfriend!”

“But if Eldon gave the ring to Darci, why didn’t he take it back from her after she died? Why didn’t he have it on him when he was killed?

“Uhmm,” Kilroy stuttered, “because he gave it to me for safekeeping.”

“When did he do that?”

“Uhmm, uhhh,” Kilroy said, tugging his hair loose from his ponytail and chewing on the split ends. “After he killed Darci, but before he killed himself.”

“He killed himself, did he? By stabbing himself with a knife over twenty times? But then why make it look like the Demonz killed him? I mean, that’s why we went to war with them, to avenge Eldon’s death. At least, that’s what I thought I was doing when the cops arrested me,” Dan said.

Kilroy shoved his hands through his hair, loosening his ponytail. “Because! Just because! Face it! Eldon was a stupid kid who didn’t know better.”

“You mean, you were a stupid kid. You stole Eldon’s ring to give to Darci. She laughed in your face and you beat her up, leaving her for dead. You went to Eldon, who always made sure things turned out all right for you, but he tried to get you to turn yourself in or something. That’s when you killed him, wasn’t it? With your very own switchblade. When you saw what you had done, you panicked and made it look like the Demonz had done it.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Like they had gotten past any of our guys walking the neighborhood, or the guards on the first floor, and got all the way upstairs to Eldon’s room, killed him without getting a spot of blood on them, and got out of the ‘hood again without anyone noticing or suspecting a thing. That’s what you say happened?” Dan said, incredulously.

“That’s what Luke said happened! And everyone agreed. We had to retaliate against the Demonz for invading our territory. And we did. So what?”

“So you admit to killing Darci and then Eldon?”

A trapped expression came over Kilroy’s face. He glanced at Duke, still lying senseless against the cave wall. Margaret hadn’t moved since she came to. Dan just stared evenly at Kilroy, calm in the truth.

“No one knows nothing,” Kilroy finally said. “And no one’s going to find out, either. Come summer, all you’ll be is a bag of bones.”

Dan felt Margaret shudder. He knew she must be panicking by now, but he admired her courage in not breaking down or begging for her life. He was reminded rather strongly of Trixie, and felt comforted, thinking of how well she would have borne up under the strain as well. “So, that’s it,” he said. “You’re just going to kill us outright. You’re not even going to give us a chance to defend ourselves. You’ve grown that cowardly and weak you can’t face a guy on his own two feet anymore, like Eldon or even Darci, but you’ve got to get him all tied up so you can’t possibly miss?”

Kilroy pulled his switchblade out of his pocket and snapped it open. “Fine. You want this chick to see you crying and whimpering for your life? That’s okay by me.” He came closer to Dan and, moments later, had sliced through the bonds that held him in place.

Margaret felt the ropes binding her to Dan loosen and then slip away. An instant later, she heard a muffled shout and then felt Dan shove almost violently against her. She fell forward and then over on her left as the scuffling noises and grunts increased. She maneuvered her aching body off to one side of the cave and rolled herself over, amazed at what she saw.

Dan had grabbed Kilroy and the two were wrestling on the ground, struggling for control of the switchblade. Margaret could clearly see the rope burns on Dan’s arms as his muscles flexed tight, and the sinewy strength of Kilroy’s body as he heaved against him. She heard them huff and groan as each landed a punch in close quarters, but neither one connected as solidly as they wanted.

As the wrestling continued, Margaret shuffled up against the cave wall and tried to inch herself into a standing position. She almost toppled over three times before seeing Dan force the switchblade out of Kilroy’s grip and then twist them both away from it, across the cave floor.

Margaret began to wriggle, trying to aid the ropes that wrapped around her down her body. She kept her eyes on the action, however, and nearly cheered when Dan broke away from Kilroy, whirled, and finally landed a solid uppercut that send Kilroy reeling against the cave wall.

But a swift conclusion to the fight, such an act did not prove to be. Kilroy rebounded and charged Dan, pushing him against the opposite wall, banging his head repeatedly against the rock and stone. Margaret felt the ropes begin to slip off her as she stared, helpless and afraid that Dan might lose.

“Dan!” she screamed. “Come on, Dan! Fight back! Get him!”

Dan seemed to hear her encouragement, for he grimaced and grabbed Kilroy’s head with one hand, his thumb gouging Kilroy’s eye socket, while his other fist punched Kilroy’s throat. Kilroy growled in anguished pain, then stumbled backward, tripping over Duke’s legs, losing his balance. Dan clenched his right hand into a fist and punched him again in the jaw, finally knocking him unconscious. Kilroy collapsed on the floor. Dan panted, leaning forward, his hands on his knees, a trickle of blood on his chin.

“Are you okay?” Margaret asked, as the ropes fell off her.

Dan looked up, saw she was almost free of the ropes, and hurried over to her. “I’ll live. How are you feeling?” His hands aching from the fight, he pulled the rest of the ropes off her.

She frowned. “What do you mean? I wasn’t the one in the fight. That was simply marvelous, by the way! I’ve never seen anyone fight before. I mean, a real fight, not like on TV or something. You really know what you’re doing, don’t you!” Her eyes shone at him with deep admiration.

“It wasn’t my first fight, if that’s what you mean,” he said, trying to ignore her adoring gaze. “But what I meant was your diabetes. Is it okay?”

“Oh! Oh, that.” She thought a moment. “Oh, yeah. I’m fine. I’m a little hungry though. I should probably get something to eat soon.”

Dan nodded. “Check out that cooler over there. Maybe they brought more than beer.” He gestured toward the cooler and Margaret turned to investigate it. Dan picked up the switchblade, closed it and stuck it in his jeans. He hurried over to Duke. “Hey, bring me some ice or something. Duke’s pretty badly hurt.” In the half-light that emanated from the dwindling fire, Dan tried to examine Duke’s head injury.

“What are you doing?” Margaret asked.

“I’m trying to help him. What does it look like?” Dan replied.

“Why?”

“Because I’m not that way anymore. You going to help me or not?” He stared at her.

“Fine.” Petulantly, she opened the cooler and dug out a chunk of ice. “Did you want some processed cheese spread? It’s either that or beer.”

“Uh, no. I’ll pass. Just toss me the ice. Will the cheese be enough for you for now?” With a shaky underhand throw, Margaret chucked a small block of ice toward Dan. He caught it easily and applied it to Duke’s head.

“I think so. I don’t really pay that much attention to the whole thing,” she said.

“Why not? Diabetes can kill you, you know.”

She shrugged, biting open the plastic wrap surrounding the processed cheese. “So can anything. Besides, it’s not like I’ve got years and years. The doctor says it’ll be a miracle if I’m not hooked up to a dialysis machine five hours a day, four days a week by this time next year. I’ve got a fairly rare blood type. There isn’t much chance I’ll find any sort of kidney or pancreatic donor. My best chance is a blood relative.” She tasted the tasteless cheese and spit it back out.

“Then I’m confused. Why run away from your family if they’re the only ones who can save you?” He frowned, applying the ice to the back of Duke’s head and splashing some of the drips onto his face. “Come on, Duke,” he muttered. “Wake up already.” Because they were rewarded with a soft moan and the fluttering of Duke’s eyes, Dan didn’t hear her explanation.

“What happened?” Duke groaned.

“Everything. Kilroy threw you against the wall and you passed out. Now Kilroy’s out cold and the two of you are going to the hospital and then the cops, in that order,” Dan told him.

Duke nodded. “Fine, man, all right. Whatever you want. Just make it stop hurting!” He sat up and Dan helped him stand, then guided Duke around Kilroy’s unmoving body toward Margaret.

“Margaret, help Duke get outside. I’ll take Kilroy. You guys have a car nearby, don’t you?” Dan asked. 

“Yeah,” Duke said. “I’ll show you.” He shook his head sorrowfully, instantly regretting his action. “The fire went out again!”

Margaret smirked. “Your wood was too wet, you know. You really never had a chance to keep the fire going.” She helped him balance long enough to navigate the cave entrance.

Once Margaret and Duke left the cave, Dan allowed himself a moment to wipe the blood from his chin, lay the rest of the ice chunk on his aching head and catch his breath. “I could really go for a cigarette right about now,” he said, thankful no one could hear him. He hoisted Kilroy over his shoulder, fireman-style, and hurried after them.

Once outside, Duke led them up behind the mouth of the cave to a small clearing where an old, gold Cadillac convertible sat covered in a light dusting of snow. Dan chuckled to see it. “You guys drove that thing all the way up here?”

“Yeah, so what?” Duke muttered, barely managing the steep climb on his own.

“Nothing,” Dan said, and opened the back-passenger door, laying Kilroy inside on the seat. “Get in,” he said to Duke. “And watch over your cousin.” He held the door open for Margaret, who smiled up at him, briefly touching her palm to his cheek to brush off a spot of dirt before slipping inside.

When Dan got into the driver’s seat, she asked, “What about the keys?”

Dan checked. There weren’t any keys in the ignition. He called to the back seat, “Where’s the keys?”

Duke groaned, “They were in the cave, last I checked.”

Margaret shivered. “I don’t remember seeing them, but, well, hurry up. It’s cold and I want to get home.”

“Forget going back to that cave,” Dan said, reaching under the steering column. “Just remember, if and when you see my uncle, I did not do this, understand?” He cast her a warning glance, then grinned as the engine roared to life.

“Wow,” Margaret said softly. “You’re full of surprises.”

Dan just winked at her and guided the car out of the clearing and onto a wider path that led directly to Telegraph Road. He turned the car toward Sleepyside. As they neared the turnoff for Glen, however, they saw a line of cars on that street, pulling onto the shoulder and parking. Dan slowed the car and saw a group of men with guns and dogs, milling about. “Uh-oh,” he said. “I think you’ve gone missing.”

Margaret frowned. “Maybe they’re hunters?”

“No, it’s posted private property. We’d better get to Manor House. There’s sure to be police there who can take these two losers off our hands, and if the Wheelers have organized a search for you, then that’s where you should be.”

He turned the car onto Glen and drove carefully down the street, privately amazed at the number of people who had turned out to search for Margaret Lang. He had some difficulty negotiating the drive up to Manor House, as the Cadillac didn’t have snow tires and the drive was lined with even more cars, including a news crew from the local TV station, a car he recognized as belonging to Paul Trent of the Sleepyside Sun, and Molinson’s own police cruiser.

Dan parked the Cadillac next to the garage, unsurprised to see that Regan was not at home. “Look at all these cars!” Margaret said. “Are they all searching for us?”

“Well, you, probably,” Dan said, opening his door. “You are an heiress, after all.”

By the time Margaret got out of the car, Dan had already pulled Kilroy over his shoulder and ordered Duke to follow. Meekly, Duke did. The quartet, completely unnoticed by the few men standing near the news van, walked right up to the servants’ entrance and into the kitchen.

They were met with the crash of dishes hitting the tiled floor and a thunderous, “Mein Gott!” as the sudden sight of four muddy, bloody teenagers standing on her clean floor completely startled the Wheeler’s current cook. “Herr Mangan! Fraulein Lang! Go inside at once! They are all wondering about you! Go! Go! I clean up here.” The Teutonic woman shooed them out of her kitchen, but not before Margaret snagged herself an apple from a bowl of fruit.

Crunching her apple contentedly, Margaret barely noticed that Dan led them straight into the Wheeler’s living room, already filled with people. In fact, her next thought, as a furry bundle of frenzied energy leapt straight into her arms, causing her to drop her half-eaten apple, was “Pepper!”, which she shrieked, delighted to see the familiar Pomeranian wriggling in her arms. “How did you get here?” she laughed, as the dog licked her face and barked ecstatically.

“Why, Margie, my dear, we brought her along with us. You did not think we could just leave her home alone, did you?”

Margaret looked up, her blood running cold as Adele Lang, arms open wide, hurried forward to embrace her daughter in greeting.

**

As Trixie, Honey and Molinson raced toward Manor House, they could see the incredible collection of cars, trucks and vans that had sprung up around the massive structure. The incongruity of seeing an old, dented Ford pickup next to a gleaming limousine almost made Trixie giggle, then she slowed to a stop.

“What’s wrong, Trixie?” Molinson asked, already up on the porch.

“Whose limo is that?” she asked. “I’ve never seen it before.”

Honey frowned. “You’re right. Daddy doesn’t like limos. That’s why Tom drives us in the Lincoln. I wonder whose it is, then?” But even as she was speaking, Trixie yelped and raced up the steps past Molinson into the house without even pausing to knock.

Honey, followed by the Sergeant, found Trixie in the huge living room, among a large group of people including her parents, Trixie’s mother, Mrs. Lynch, Diana and both sets of twins, Bobby Belden, Celia Delanoy and Miss Trask, home early from her vacation. As Honey hurried to greet her former governess, she noticed another couple, standing and talking with her parents. She had never met them before and wondered if they were connected to the limo outside.

“Trixie, Honey,” Mrs. Wheeler was saying, “come and meet Margaret’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Victor and Adele Lang.” As she introduced them to each other, Honey politely shook their hands and inquired after their health.

Victor Lang, Honey thought, looked like most of her father’s business associates. He wore an expensive Italian suit, only slightly rumpled, kept his silvering hair neatly trimmed and held steel-framed glasses in one plump hand. Otherwise, his looks were unremarkable. Adele Lang, on the other hand, subscribed to the ‘too rich or too thin’ philosophy. Honey very much doubted the perfectly dressed woman weighed more than 95 pounds, all 5 feet of her. She wore her pale blonde hair in a black chignon, a huge diamond wedding ring and a dark green woolen skirt and matching jacket. Even though the woman sported three-inch heels, Honey still felt like a giant standing next to her.

“We heard you were snowed in up in Nova Scotia,” Trixie said by way of greeting.

Adele Lang’s eyebrows rose. “I see. You are the Belden girl?”

Trixie fought an embarrassed blush. “Yes, I am. It’s nice to meet you. I was just surprised you were able to make it this early.”

“Well, when we heard what happened to our daughter, naturally we made every effort to reach her,” Victor Lang explained, shaking Trixie’s hand. “When the airport cancelled our flight and our pilot refused to fly us through the flurries, we simply drove to the next airport and found a new pilot with more skill. We had our staff bring us some things from the house and meet us in Newburgh. We drove from there.”

“They’ve only just arrived, dears,” Madeline Wheeler said softly. “We’ve just finished telling them about Margaret.”

“Indeed! Not 24 hours in your care and she goes missing again!” Adele snapped, betraying the slightest hint of a French accent. “What is it with this village? There are not so many of you that you cannot keep track of one sick, little girl for one day until her parents arrive!”

Trixie and Honey shared a stunned glance. Madeline merely smiled graciously and offered her guest some tea and a chair. Victor pressed a cup into his wife’s hands and pulled her to a seat. Trixie edged close to her mother. “Moms? What’s going on here?”

“Shh, Trixie. They recalled most of the search parties until morning light. Mrs. Lang is just upset and worried over her daughter.” Her mother then smiled at her own daughter and ruffled her yellow curls. “Looks like you’ve been doing some dusting. I know you weren’t at home, so…”

“I was cleaning up Dan’s room. I needed something to do,” she added. Her mother’s eyebrows rose, but she said nothing to indicate she thought it odd that Trixie preferred to clean up someone else’s room before her own.

“Sergeant Molinson?” Matthew Wheeler finally said. “Have you any news?”

“He is the police in this place? Well, it is no wonder they fail to find my precious baby!” Adele commented, swigging the last of her tea.

Molinson just nodded his head in her direction. “Ma’am,” he said, and Trixie was amused to hear how much insult he could pack into the syllables. “As far as I know, they are still missing. I apologize for not being in uniform, but I’m not officially on duty again until Monday morning. However, the Chief has given me the go-ahead to conduct business while I’m here.”

“They?” Victor Lang questioned. “Who else is missing? We thought it was just our daughter.”

“She is the only one who matters,” Adele reminded them.

“Daniel Mangan, a minor, is also missing. We have reason to believe they are together,” Molinson answered.

“You do?” Miss Trask asked. “What reason?” During the past year especially, she had come to know the young man in question quite well and was naturally upset he’d gone missing yet again.

Molinson smiled at her. “Unless Dan is sick or injured, and he knows these woods too well to get lost, we figure he has to be with the girl, probably keeping her safe somewhere.”

Trixie and Honey noticed that no one seemed to be telling the Langs about the connection to Dan’s old gang. That’s got to be for the best, Trixie thought. Why worry them over something that might not happen?

“I remember that name!” Adele said suddenly. She stared at Mr. Wheeler. “He is that juvenile delinquent you gave a job to, is he not, Matthew?”

Matthew Wheeler just closed his eyes and counted to ten. His wife just closed her eyes. Trixie, astonished that no one in the room had yet rallied to Dan’s defense, opened her mouth. “Dan is not a juvenile delinquent. He was in trouble once, but he’s not any more. He’s changed. He’s a really decent person and he’s been responsible for some really wonderful things in the past two years he’s lived here!” She would have continued, except Dan’s uncle walked through the door.

“Evening, folks,” Regan began, obviously too preoccupied with Dan’s disappearance to notice the Langs’ presence. “Before you ask, no, I haven’t found them. I did, however, see a fire up in the bluffs overlooking the river, but it went out. I think I know where it was, but you can’t get to it through the woods at night, so I planned on taking a car and thought one of you might want to join me.”

Trixie gulped in relief. Regan hadn’t heard Awful Adele’s comment. She watched as the Wheelers stepped forward, hopeful, followed by Mr. Lang. For a moment, Trixie felt a surge of disappointment that she hadn’t been the one to discover Dan and Margaret’s whereabouts, but quickly squashed that notion with relief that they were about to be found.

Victor Lang, however, did not look relieved. “You, again!” he snarled, turning his face to hide his disgust. “I almost can’t believe you’re still paying this man, Wheeler!”

“Oh?” Matthew turned in surprise. “Do you two know each other?”

“We’ve met,” Regan said calmly. “Evening, Mr. Lang. Mrs. Lang.” He nodded politely to the elegantly dressed woman, who whispered loudly to her husband:

“Who is that, dear?”

“Nobody, darling,” he replied.

Trixie, overhearing every word, bristled with the insult. Regan, however, appeared to take no notice of the Langs after his polite words. Instead, he turned back to Mr. Wheeler and repeated his request. “So, if someone wants to go along, we should probably not-“

Regan was interrupted again, but this time by a sudden commotion coming from the direction of the kitchen. Everyone in the room turned, startled, as the swinging doors from the dining room burst open and Dan, carrying a disreputable-looking person over his shoulder, and another teenager, somewhat dazed and staggering, and Margaret, looking all the worse for wear, appeared. As Dan stood the guy on his feet, a small, furry, brown and gold creature leaped from the sofa next to Mrs. Lang and flung itself at Margaret, who hugged it delightedly.

“Pepper! How did you get here?” Margaret giggled.

Adele Lang stood, beamed and said, “Why, Margie, my dear, we brought her along with us. You didn’t think we could just leave her home alone, did you?” In seconds, she had crossed the room and engulfed her daughter in a hug.

Trixie watched as Margaret dropped the dog on the floor and brought her hands up to clutch at her mother. But rather than return her mother’s embrace, as Trixie half expected, Margaret took hold of Adele’s woolen jacket and shoved her, saying, “Get away from me! Don’t touch me!” As Adele stepped back, a look of alarm on her face, Margaret continued. “What in God’s name are you doing here, anyway? You’re supposed to be trapped in Nova Scotia until Monday!”

The roomful of people had jumped up from their seats and stepped forward, happy and relieved to see Dan and Margaret safely returned, but, as Margaret broke free of her mother’s embrace and shouted at her, everyone froze in their tracks, shocked at the unexpected display, except Bobby, who ran full-tilt at Dan, wrapping his arms joyously around his legs.

Adele stared at her daughter, a bit perplexed. “What do you mean, ‘trapped in Nova Scotia until Monday’? Why would we be trapped until that particular date, Margie?” 

Shaking with either nerves or frustration, Margaret managed to say clearly, “Because that’s as long as I figured I needed you out of the way.”

Victor Lang slowly approached his daughter, a wary look in his eyes. “Margie, what did you do this time?”

His daughter glared up at him. “I just arranged things, that’s all. Red has a very sophisticated computer system in his study and it’s not so hard to manipulate a weather report, you know? Especially in that tiny little airport. Their security is so five minutes ago!”

Victor shook his head warningly. “Margie! How many times have I told you to steer clear of that sort of thing? Computer tampering is dangerous and you could get into a lot of trouble!”

“Oh, like you wouldn’t get your precious daughter out of trouble if you wanted! You’ve done it before. Both of you. Plenty of times. Isn’t that right, Mommy?” Margaret fairly spit at her parents.

Flustered, Adele glanced around the room, belatedly realizing her family drama was being played out in front of so many strangers. Still, most of them were Nobodies, so that was all right. But Madeline and Matthew Wheeler were there, too, and that worried her. She aimed for misdirection. “So! Are you the young men who rescued my daughter?” she asked Dan, Duke and a still-unconscious Kilroy, now crumpled on the floor.

Dan grinned and nodded at his uncle, knelt to pull Bobby into a brief hug before sending him back to his mother, then replied, “Well, actually, Ma’am, your daughter wouldn’t have needed rescuing if she’d just had the sense to stay out of trouble.”

Adele reacted as if she’d been struck. “I see!” She kept her eyes on the disreputable-looking youth with the swollen cheek and the rather intimidating physique as she asked her husband, “Victor? Who is that?”

Victor slipped his arm around his wife’s shoulders and asked, “What’s your name, young man? Speak up, now!”

A bit bewildered by his reception so far, Dan gave his name. His bewilderment increased, as well as his insult-awareness, when Victor dropped the hand he’d offered in greeting and scowled. “What did you do to my daughter?” he asked in a low voice.

Dan felt his spine stiffen in response to the unspoken threat. “I saved her life. Twice, I might add.” He turned to Molinson and gestured at Duke and Kilroy. “Sir, you should arrest these two. These guys are the ones who kidnapped me and Margaret and held us captive in a cave overlooking the river. I can show you later. All the evidence is still there. This one,” he indicated Kilroy, “is the guy who jumped Margaret in the woods Thursday night. Both of them are wanted by the New York police for assorted crimes, but this same guy is responsible for the murders of Darci Campbell and Eldon Madrone.”

Molinson, even more interested by that last bit of information, stepped forward to take custody of the two young men. He glanced at Kilroy’s bruises. “He going to be all right?” he asked casually.

“I knocked him unconscious, but I’d have thought he’d be awake by now,” Dan said, a slight frown puckering his black eyebrows.

Duke grinned. “I hit him again in the car.” He flexed his hand and then shook it out.

Molinson took charge then, formally arresting the two, calling for police backup and arranging for Dan and Margaret to come into the station as soon as possible to swear out depositions. As he left a half-hour later, his suspects in tow, he grinned at Trixie, standing with her mother. “At least this time, Miss Belden, you stayed out of things. Can this mean you’ve given up on solving crimes?”

“Nope,” Trixie grinned back. “I’ve just become more choosy, is all. Besides, aren’t you sticking around for the finale?”

He nodded. “I’ll be back, all right, just as soon as I put these two in a squad car. Do not start without me!” He hustled the two handcuffed criminals out of the room.

Meanwhile, Madeline Wheeler arranged for food for Dan and Margaret; Regan oversaw things as Dr. Ferris and a paramedic checked over Dan’s cuts and bruises and Margaret’s condition; the other adults called off the search entirely and Trixie made a phone call of her own. After Molinson left, she positioned herself by the living room door nearest the front of the house and waited with Honey and the other BWGs, recently reassembled and whispering quietly, filling each other in on the evening’s events. The Beldens and the Lynches sent their younger children upstairs to nap until it was time to go home. Celia, practicing for her impending motherhood, baby-sat them. Pepper curled up beside his mistress’s feet.

Between bites of his roast beef sandwich, Dan told everyone how he’d come across the camp Kilroy and Duke had made on the other side of the lake and how he’d recognized the funny mark on Margaret’s bruised cheek. He told how he’d seen the tag on the cabin and in his room, but left immediately afterward to look for Kilroy, whose tag was an angled dagger. He found Kilroy and Duke near Ten Acres, looking for the knife Kilroy had used to scare Margaret. Kilroy and Dan began to fight, but then Margaret wandered into the middle of it. Duke knocked Margaret unconscious and held his own knife to her throat, effectively capturing and guaranteeing Dan’s cooperation.

They were tied together and left alone in a cave, but since they had blindfolded Dan, he had been unaware immediately of their location. Dan told them how Margaret kept her head in the crisis, getting Duke to convince Kilroy to light their fire outside where it might be seen.

“That was good thinking,” Regan interrupted, “since I was on my way to check out that fire when you showed up here.”

Dan quickly related the rest of the events. Margaret noticed how he left out most of the part about Darci, only saying that Kilroy had been directly responsible for her death. He told how Kilroy choked Margaret, cut his own ropes loose, “and after that, well, we fought a little and I managed to knock him unconscious.”

Margaret, however, did not hesitate to retell that part of the story, embellishing only slightly the daunting odds Dan faced and the epic struggle of which he emerged victorious. She ended her tale with, “he’s a true hero and I owe him my life.”

Dan blushed when she kissed his cheek in front of everyone.

Her parents blanched white.

Regan gave Dan a big hug, clapping him on the back, and a look which promised they’d talk more about it later. The Bob-Whites alternated between congratulating Dan and scolding him for not letting them in on the whole story sooner. They each made a point of making sure Margaret knew how much they admired her, as well, for keeping her head and making it out of the situation intact. 

After the congratulating and good-natured ribbing were through, Dan and Margaret settled down again on a sofa to have second helpings of food. Adele and Victor hovered over their daughter, trying to assist Margaret with her sandwich and diet soda, but she bluntly refused their help. They tried to get her to sit away from Dan, but again, she refused. They finally ordered her to leave immediately with them. At that, she threw her sandwich, plate and all, against the wall. Mustard, Trixie reflected later, made a very pretty brown stain on the Trompe l’oeil.

“Just get away from me! Why can’t you understand I want nothing more to do with you people ever, ever again!” Shaking with sudden adrenaline, Margaret paused for control. Pepper woke up and began to growl.

Adele, supplication in her eyes, knelt at her daughter’s feet. “Please, Margie! Tell us what we did wrong and we shall fix it!”

Victor tried the opposite approach. “Young lady! You will apologize to your hostess at once for breaking her dishes! That pattern was discontinued, you know!”

Through grit teeth, Margaret said tightly, “Maddie, I apologize for breaking your plate. But don’t worry. My family’s philosophy is simple. If you break it, don’t cry about it. Get yourself a new one.”

Adele gasped. “What do you mean, Margie? What are you talking about?”

Margaret stared fiercely into Adele’s eyes. “The truth, Mother. Or don’t you think I’m smart enough to figure it all out? All the whispers, the speculation, the DNA!”

Adele stood slowly, her hands shaking. “What do you mean, Margie?” she repeated. “What are you talking about? I really must insist you speak plainly, dear.”

Margaret stood, too. “Speak plainly? Fine. I’m talking about DNA, Mother. Simple, ordinary, everyday, DNA. You’ve got it. He’s got it,” she gestured at Victor. “I’ve got it. The trouble is… we don’t got the same kind.”

Adele’s jaw began to work, clenching and releasing. “What do you mean, Margie? What are you—“

“STOP SAYING THAT!” Margaret shouted, her words echoing in the crowded room. “I’m tired of you pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about! I’m tired of living some twisted lie! I’m tired of being Margaret Lang! I want to know who I am. Who I really am. I need to know. Just tell me. Please!”

Adele’s entire body began to shake. Victor pulled his wife a little behind him, then faced his daughter with a stern expression. The Pomeranian began to bark frantically. Margaret picked him up and held him. Victor said calmly, “Margaret, you’re upset, that’s clear. Your blood sugar is probably all out of balance. Who knows what that backwoods hospital did to you, and now this little escapade in that cave? Who knows what setbacks you’re experiencing due to just being here, away from your home and the people who know you and love you? You don’t realize what you’re saying-“

“And you’re just covering up for her, isn’t that right?” Margaret scoffed. She gestured to include the entire room in her next statement. “That’s all he ever does anymore, you know. He covers things up. His business is failing, but he’s covered that up so well even Red here is convinced it’s still sound. His marriage is a disaster, but they were still voted Couple of the Year at their country club last year. Their daughter died, but they just covered that up by going out and getting themselves another one.”

Honey and Trixie glanced at each other knowingly as a murmur of disbelief and shock circled the room. Trixie wondered where Molinson was. He was supposed to have returned by now. She couldn’t wait much longer. And where was-? She heard a noise in the hallway.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! Really, I don’t! My daughter didn’t die! She did not die! She’s standing right here in front of me. Right here!” Adele gestured at Margaret, her hands shaking wildly, her voice cracking and her face twisted in an insistent expression of righteousness.

As Adele fractured, Margaret collected herself. “Trouble with that, Adele Lang,” she said, much more calmly, “is proving it. You can’t.” She set Pepper back on the carpet and spread her hands in a simple gesture of surrender. “I already tried. But, hey! You’re welcome to try, too. You want the Internet addresses I used to track down the proof? I lost my journal, but it’s all still on my computer at home.”

“It won’t be,” Victor contradicted. At her surprised look, he explained. “One phone call from me and your hard drive gets wiped. Don’t think I can’t manipulate the sites you found, either. I’ve gotten very good at manipulating data since you were a child.”

“I have no doubt about that,” Margaret replied. “But you still can’t make me share your DNA. And that was the kicker. Why wouldn’t you get tested for my pancreatic cell transplant? Because you already knew you wouldn’t qualify as donors! Which really made no sense, since all I needed was a sufficient match and the right blood type and then I could really fight my diabetes instead of it fighting me!”

“Is that what this is about?” Victor smiled benevolently. “We found a donor. Several donors, in fact. Good people. All you have to do is come back with us to Pennsylvania and we’ll settle all this there. Margaret,” he said placatingly, “please. You’re upsetting your mother.”

Adele just stared at Margaret. “Everything I have done for you,” she was saying, “and this is how you repay me? We give you the best of everything. The best tutors. The best doctors. The best vacations and the best people to be your society. You are a faithless child!”

Trixie tried to watch everything that was happening. She saw Madeline Wheeler weeping on her husband’s shoulder, Matthew Wheeler trying to comfort his wife while riveted to the confrontation. She saw her parents holding hands, her mother’s eyes wide with concern. She saw the Lynches, likewise alert and wide-eyed. She saw Regan, arms folded, eyes hooded, leaning against the wall near Dan (and the mustard stain; Margaret had missed hitting Regan with the plate by mere inches), and Dan, leaning back in the sofa, a deceptively casual posture. Her brothers, Jim, Di and Honey couldn’t take their eyes off Margaret or her parents, even when the doors to the living room opened, and Molinson stepped through, another man following.

Margaret laughed harshly. “You’ve done nothing for me except steal me from the place I belonged and lie to me constantly since then! And, you! Victor!” she said. “Now you try to bribe me with the promise of a possible long-term solution? What, so you can continue to lie to me? I don’t think so!” The return of Molinson and the appearance of a strangely dressed man behind him caught her attention.

Margaret stepped away from her parents, glaring indignantly at the intruders. She recognized Molinson, of course. The other man resembled a scarecrow, all elbows and knees, thick white hair, flannel shirt and faded denim. He had removed his heavy coat and held a leather hat in his callused hands. He stared at her, studying her features, her figure, her eyes and her mouth.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” she demanded.

Mr. Maypenny could only say one word. “Katrina?” Then his eyes closed and he brushed a hand over them as if wiping away a phantom image. He shook his head. “No, no. Of course, you are not her.” He looked up at her again and a hesitant smile creased his weather-beaten skin. He managed to say one more word in the sudden, all-encompassing, expectant silence: “Anneka?”

Margaret flinched. Hoarsely, she asked, “Do I know you?”

Maypenny straightened. In a clear voice, he announced, “I’m Micah Maypenny. I’m your father.”

That’s when all Hell finally broke loose.


	7. Revelations and A New Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest gets revealed, Trixie is a hero, there's a new member of the BWG's and everyone rides off into late morning sunshine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I warn for melodrama? I feel like I should warn for melodrama.

Chapter 7: Revelations and a New Beginning

 

Hell was breaking loose.

“What did you say?”

“Get away from her!”

“Maypenny? Are you-“

“You’re crazy! You are not-“

“Oh, my God, Peter, it is!”

“Trixie? Honey? Did you-“

“Stop it, everyone! Just shut up and listen!”

Trixie had moved into the middle of the room to stand almost between Margaret and Mr. Maypenny when she shouted for silence. She waited, checking to be sure she had everyone’s complete attention, then she continued. “That’s better. Now. It’s true. Mr. Maypenny, your daughter did not die 14 years ago. She was raised instead by that couple over there. It was their daughter who died, and it’s that little girl’s body that’s buried next to your wife. What’s more, I can prove it. Here,” she pulled Margaret’s journal from her jacket and handed it to her. “I found this in my house this afternoon. Honey and I were trying to return it to you when you went missing. Don’t worry. I only read one entry, and that was by accident.”

“Thank you.” Margaret breathed, taking the book and turning it over in her hands. She flipped quickly through the pages. “This has all my notes in it. All the websites, all the documents - everything. My entire investigation is in here.” She smiled sincerely into Trixie’s eyes. “Thank you so much! But, how did you figure this out if you didn’t read the book? And how… who…” she stammered, barely able to gesture at the man claiming to be her father. 

“Just listen. I have lots to say,” Trixie replied, forestalling further reaction from the adults. “Mr. Maypenny, did you bring that photo like I asked?” He nodded and handed her the photo of the little girl that she and Honey had found earlier. Trixie took it to Mrs. Wheeler. “You still have that photo album of Margaret, don’t you?”

Mrs. Wheeler nodded, confused. “It’s right here. I never replaced it after this morning.” She picked up the album from a small table and handed it to Trixie.

Trixie thanked her, then opened the album to the picture she had remarked on earlier that day. She laid Mr. Maypenny’s photograph next to the one in the album and handed it to him. “Do you see what I saw this afternoon?”

Visibly shaken, Maypenny stared at both photographs. The picture in the album showed a little girl with long brown hair and big brown eyes in a sailor dress. She looked remarkably similar, if a little older, to the girl in the other photograph.

Gently, Trixie touched Mr. Maypenny’s arm. “That is your daughter, isn’t it?”

Maypenny nodded, unable to speak. Trixie took the album and the picture and turned it so that Margaret could see it. “These are pictures of you, aren’t they?”

Margaret nodded. She pointed at the album. “I remember this dress. Adele bought that for me when we went sailing on Lake Erie.” She picked up Maypenny’s photograph. “I remember this, too,” she said thoughtfully, the memory brushing against her consciousness. “I wanted to wear a crown of flowers like mom…” She gasped, setting the photo back on the album page. “Like mommy had.”

Trixie took the album and the photograph and handed both to Sgt. Molinson. “If you remember what you told me earlier, Sergeant,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “the Maypennys were only given their daughter’s dress to identify. No one thought they should have to see the body, because it had been so badly mauled. I think somebody did see it, however.”

Trixie turned to face the Langs. “Let me guess what happened. You’re from out of state, so you would have had to have been driving through the Catskills, maybe on a vacation or something, and you stopped at the scenic overlook just outside town. Your little girl wandered off. You searched for her and, at some point, you found her. But she was dead. I’m sure it was a terrible sight. Grief-stricken, you fled the scene, unable to handle what you had witnessed. Then you came across her in the woods,” she pointed at Margaret, who was listening intently, an odd sort of recognition on her face.

Trixie continued. “You found her, a little girl who looked almost exactly like your own daughter and thought, ‘that wasn’t my little girl, this is my little girl’ and you took her back to your car, changed her clothes, left her old ones behind and continued on your way as if nothing unusual had happened.” Trixie paused as her words took effect. Quietly, she added, “I imagine it was quite a surprise to discover that your daughter had diabetes, wasn’t it?”

Victor nodded, his eyes hollow. “Adele gave her cake and ice cream to make her stop crying and she went into shock and almost slipped into a coma. She was in PICU for a month. We guarded her after that. She never went anywhere alone. We didn’t even send her to school but taught her at home. But I didn’t know she wasn’t really Margaret until years later.” He held up his hand in warning. “I wasn’t there when she went missing and I wasn’t there when Adele brought her back to the inn, already going into shock. We took her to the County Hospital, but Adele made me check her out of there so that we could get a doctor in Erie to look after her. I thought that was unusual, but…”

Trixie nodded. “That was because Adele realized the girl might be recognized by someone if she stayed around Sleepyside. It’s a very small town, after all, and I’m sure you saw the notices for a missing girl.”

Victor nodded, barely able to meet her eyes.

Mr. Maypenny spoke up then, his voice rough with unshed tears. “How dare you? How dare you just take a little girl from her home and her family and everything she knows? How could you leave your daughter behind to be mourned and buried by strangers? And what right did you have to mine?”

Adele stood up as straight and as tall as she could. “I have every right!” she hissed. “I am Adele Montrose Lang! Wife of Victor Lang of Lang Technologies! Daughter of Michel Montrose, descendant of the Bourbons of France! I am a daughter of royalty! You are a filthy, backwoods bohemian beggar! What makes you think Margaret would have lasted two weeks with you looking out for her? Could you have given her what we have given her? The best doctors? The best tutors? We have developed her mind into a thing of precision and brilliance! You should hear what her professors say about her. She is a genius, world-class, destined for greatness – all thanks to our involvement in her life!” Adele looked up and then down Maypenny, disgust in her eyes. “You should be on your knees in front of me, thanking me for lifting your daughter out of the mud and muck I found her in into the elevated, rarefied air of the truly gifted and powerful!”

Maypenny didn’t even blink. “You can’t give her the one thing her mother and I could have. The unconditional love and support of her parents.”

“Your wife’s dead!” Adele snapped.

“My wife died of grief,” Maypenny retorted, his easy-going manner all but forgotten, “guilt-stricken that she had somehow contributed to our daughter’s death. But she had nothing to feel guilty about, did she? She died because of what you did. You should be on your knees begging my forgiveness.” 

“Stop it! Both of you! Stop it!” Margaret shouted, her hands covering her ears. “I just can’t take any more of this. I just can’t!”

Dan swiftly got to his feet and moved to stand next to Margaret. A bit awkwardly, he put his hands on her shoulders. As she continued to cry hysterically, he gently turned her around and pulled her into a warm and comforting embrace. He stroked her hair with one hand while whispering softly.

Trixie took a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter what happened since you had her in your care, Mrs. Lang. What matters is that you kidnapped her in the first place. For that, you’ll have to face the consequences. You both will, sir, since you didn’t correct the situation once you realized what happened.”

Like a rabid animal, Adele grabbed Margaret and tried to yank her out of Dan’s arms. “You cannot have her! You are not good enough for her! That is my little girl. Mine!” Her nails dug painfully into Margaret’s arms as Victor tried to pull his wife back and Dan and Margaret held tighter to each other.

“Just keep away from her. Can’t you see she’s upset?” Dan said to Adele, scowling fiercely. Into Margaret’s ear, however, he kept whispering, “It’ll be okay. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise. You’re safe with me.”

Sgt. Molinson stepped forward. “This has gone on long enough and I’ve heard everything I need to. Victor and Adele Lang, I’m placing you both under arrest –“

“No, you don’t!” Victor stepped forward. “You can’t! We’ll have your badge! You can’t kidnap your own child and I adopted her years ago!”

“What did you say?” Mr. Maypenny growled. “You adopted her?”

Chaos resumed immediately.

Even Trixie was shaken. In the midst of all the questions and exclamations everyone threw out, she made herself clear when she asked, “How could you adopt her? You never had her birth parents’ consent!”

Victor had the ill grace to look smug. “I didn’t need it. You can get a judge to do anything if you pay him enough.”

Margaret finally turned from Dan, wiping at her tear-stained face. “You’re lying!” Her voice shook. “The first thing I specifically searched for was an adoption record! There wasn’t any! Just the certificate for the live birth of Margaret Lang to Victor and Adele Lang!”

Victor waved her questions away. “It’s all been settled. But perhaps I misspoke. I didn’t mean to suggest that I had gotten a formal adoption or anything. Just a legal document that states that you, the physical, actual person, are my issue, my heir, my daughter, mine. Oh, yes. Adele has one, too.”

“Why would anyone need such a document?” Trixie asked.

“To legitimize illegitimate children,” Victor smoothly replied. “The actual wording was taken from an old English law designed to allow noblemen to name their mistress’s children legal heirs. I simply told the judge that Adele had had an affair and I wished to acknowledge her child as my own. And then I had a different judge sign a similar paper stating the same thing about me. So you see, Margaret really is our daughter. It’s all quite legal and binding. My dear, you have nothing to worry about,” he smiled down at his wife, tucked firmly under his arm.

Trixie searched her mind for an argument, a flaw in his plan – something that would return Margaret to her real father. Nothing came to mind.

“We’ll see about that, won’t we?” Mr. Maypenny said.

“Damn straight,” Mr. Wheeler agreed. “And don’t worry about the cost or the lawyers. I’ll have a legal team working on this within the hour. Madeline and I adore that little girl. We’ll do anything for her.”

Molinson just smirked. “You won’t have to do a thing. He’ll still have to prove that either he or his wife is the child’s natural parent and, according to the girl, he can’t. Besides, no court in the country will uphold some piece of paper over returning a kidnapped child to her real father. Face it,” he told the Langs confidently, “you’ll be spending a great deal of time in the state pen.”

Victor turned to argue further with the sergeant, letting go of his wife. Adele immediately lunged forward and grabbed Margaret, pulling her face to face. “You listen to me, petite chienne, and you listen good! You are coming with me right now and no one is going to do anything about it, n’est-ce pas? You are my little girl now, and that is how it is going to stay! Attendez-moi!”

Margaret gasped, her entire expression and demeanor changing, and tried to yank her arm free, but Adele held her in a death grip. “Stop it!” Margaret cried in an odd, high-pitched voice. “Stop saying that! I’m not your little girl! I’m not!” She stamped her foot in emphasis. “Where’s my mommy! I want my mommy!”

Trixie watched, horrified, as Margaret succumbed to the pure fright of a lost child and tried to use her body to pull her arm free, sinking down almost to the carpet in a vain attempt to become too heavy for Adele to manage. As Dan tried to help her, Margaret began to howl, an unearthly sound that caused the hair on the back of Trixie’s neck to stand on end.

Margaret screamed and kept on screaming: “Mommy! I want my mommy! Mommy!”

Mr. Maypenny, thoroughly enraged at the realization of all that had been done to him and his wife and infuriated at the way Adele Lang was treating his daughter, grabbed Adele’s elbow in a grip of iron. “Let go of my daughter,” he ordered in a low growling voice. “Let go of her now and I guarantee you the continued use of your arm.”

Adele, a wild look in her eyes, let go of Margaret, letting the girl slump onto the carpet. Margaret began to shake and shudder violently. She kept sobbing, “Mommy? Where are you mommy? I can’t find you. I don’t like it here. I don’t feel good. I don’t like this game. Mommy? I want you. Come get me! Find me, Mommy! Find me!”

Dan and Trixie knelt beside Margaret and began smoothing the hair from her face and wiping her tears away. Startled, Margaret stared straight into Trixie’s eyes. For a moment, Trixie was afraid Margaret had completely broken from reality, but instead, she whispered in a more normal voice, “Trixie? What’s…”

Then, Margaret blinked, uncertain, and lifted her face to stare up at the man standing next to her. The strangely dressed man in tall boots, worn jeans and flannel shirt, his coat and leather-brimmed hat forgotten on the floor behind him, stood tall beside her, like an ancient oak in the deepest part of the forest, and looked down, his face shadowed with memories too painful to be expressed. Margaret lifted her hand, trembling, toward his, and as she briefly touched the weather-beaten back of his right hand, she drew hers away again. He stood still, motionless, as she moved her hand back to his and touched him again, feeling the rough, warm skin. She looked up into his face. Fresh tears glistened in his eyes as she whispered brokenly, “Daddy?”

 

Bob-Whites of the Glen Clubhouse  
Twelve weeks later  
Saturday, 9:15 a.m.

“Hey, we made the New York Times again,” Mart called out to Jim and Brian as he entered the clubhouse. He hoisted the heavy newspaper over his head before letting it slam onto the conference table, shaking it.

“You’re lucky you didn’t spill my coffee,” Brian scowled, taking another sip from his travel mug.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Mart grinned, sitting backwards in his usual chair.

“Forget it, Mart. I’ve got you beat,” Jim said, ignoring the brotherly spat.

“How?” Mart asked. “This is our seventh write-up in the New York Times for the same case. How can you beat that?”

Jim had the grace not to look smug. He pulled a magazine out from under the table and displayed it to the brothers.

Mart whistled low. “Get out! The cover of Time? Let me see that!”

Jim easily kept the magazine away from Mart’s hands. “Forget it, kid. This issue’s promised to Trixie.” At that moment, they heard the sound of voices and light laughter. “And here she comes now.”

Mart smirked, but said nothing as the clubhouse door opened to admit Trixie, Honey, Di, Dan and the current Time Magazine cover girl, the former Margaret Lang.

“Wow,” said the newly platinum blonde, “I never thought I’d be so privileged as to actually be invited inside. What an honor!”

Dan held the door for the girls as they filed through, then he and they took their usual positions around the table, inadvertently leaving their guest standing.

“Oops,” Trixie said. “I’ll get the extra chair.” She stood and hurried to the back storage room and returned a moment later with a folding chair. “Here you go,” she said, tucking the chair in between her own and Honey’s. “Have a seat.”

“Thanks.” The girl looked at the assortment of newspapers and magazines. “Oh. Been doing some reading, I see.”

Jim pushed the magazine across the table to her. “Did you want to see it?”

“Ugh, no. I’ve had enough of reporters, editorials and photographers to last me a lifetime.” She pushed it back at him.

“Well, I want to see it,” Trixie said, picking up the magazine. “Hm,” she remarked. “That’s really a nice picture.”

“Yeah, I guess. Every year the Langs sat for Christmas portraits. That was mine. Actually, I kind of hate it.”

“Well, it doesn’t look much like you anymore,” Trixie said. “Especially since you’ve changed your hair color.”

“Oh, that.” She fingered her hair. “Just my way of escaping from my past and reasserting my independence. At least, that’s what my new therapist says.”

“How is that going, by the way?” Jim asked casually.

“Oh, well. It’s okay, I guess. I’ve only had a couple sessions. I start a regular schedule this week, now that the trial’s all over.”

“We read about your m-, I mean, Mrs. Lang. Have you seen her since?” Brian asked.

“Since she wigged out? Yeah. My dad, my real dad, took me to see her last weekend in the psychiatric hospital where she was committed.” She heaved a huge sigh. “Since she had her psychotic break that night, she’s been completely out of touch with reality. I’m surprised you heard about it already. Victor was able to keep it out of the papers, but with him in prison now, I guess everyone’s going to find out.” She shifted in her seat. “When I saw her, she just sat in a chair in her room, rocking back and forth and muttering. She didn’t even know me. The doctors don’t think she’ll ever get better.”

“And Victor?” Brian continued gently.

“He was sentenced to 5-10 years in a federal prison for kidnapping. Even though Adele was the person who actually abducted me, he covered it up.”

There was complete silence as no one could think of a thing to say. The girl frowned, looking over Trixie’s shoulder at the cover photograph. “So, what’s the headline this week?”

Trixie read it in a somber, newscaster voice. “Have You Seen This Child? The Decision of the Decade and the Fate of an Heiress.” She glanced at the blonde sitting next to her. “Well? What have you decided? Do we call you Margaret or what?”

The girl sighed and rubbed her forehead. “I’ve been giving this a great deal of thought. It’s been tough. I’ve talked to my dad about it. He says he’ll support whatever decision I make. He’s been really cool about all this. I’ve decided, though, pretty easily, that I’m through being a ‘Lang’. I’ve never felt particularly Swedish, anyway.”

Mart asked, “How do Swedes feel?”

She laughed. “You ever see an Ingmar Bergman film? Dark and gloomy.”

“So, you’re a Maypenny, then?” Dan asked in a neutral tone.

“Yup,” she nodded. “It’s kind of a cool name, when you think about it. It’s cheerful.”

“And your first name will be…. Margaret?” Diana asked in a less neutral tone.

“Double ick,” she sneered. “I’ve always hated that name. Now I know why, of course. No, if I’m going with Maypenny,” she paused, thoughtful, “well, Margaret Maypenny sounds kind of okay.” She shook her head vehemently. “Nope! I’m not going to do it. Anneka Maypenny it is. Although, I think I’ll prefer to be called Anne. With an ‘e’, of course!”

“Okay!” Jim smacked the table. “I believe we’ve got a bet to settle, Bob-Whites!” He grinned. “Pay up, everybody! Let’s see those wallets, ladies, gentlemen!”

Brian and Mart groaned as they pulled out their wallets and handed some money to Dan. Diana opened her purse, tossing a bill toward Honey. Trixie just dug into her pockets and pulled out a crumpled dollar bill. She tossed it across the table to Jim, who picked it up distastefully.

“Something wrong?” Trixie asked, daring him to reply.

Jim sighed. “No, I guess not. It’s just that…” his voice trailed off. He ran his hand through his thick red hair, rumpling it distractedly.

“What is it, Jim?” Trixie asked again, a bit impatiently.

“Well, it’s not important, exactly, but… well…” He sighed again. “You did say ‘a crisp new American dollar bill’ and this is, well… not crisp and not new.”

“Hey!” Trixie sat straighter in her chair. “It’s American, at least! Give me a break.”

“Oh, no!” he hastened to assure her, smoothing out the bill and refolding it, shaking his head. “Don’t think twice about it, really. I know how hard you had to work to come by this particular dollar bill.”

Everyone at the table laughed as Trixie blushed scarlet to the roots of her hair. A question on her face, Anne asked, “Is this a secret or does everybody get to know what’s going on?”

Tactfully, Honey explained, “Last week, Mart told Trixie he’d give her the ‘entire contents of his Bob-White jacket’ if she would groom Strawberry for him.”

Anne nodded. “I see. And all he had in his pockets was the one dollar bill?” She glanced at Trixie. “Why’d you agree to do so much work for so little in return?”

Trixie blushed redder. “I saw him put his tutoring money in his jacket pocket. Little did I know the sneak ‘palmed’ it up his sleeve!”

The laughter around the table grew as Anne scolded, “Mart! That wasn’t a very nice thing to do to your only sister.”

“What can I say? She earned every last penny of that dollar! Strawberry never felt better.” He leaned back, grinning. “My sister really knows how to groom a horse. And is it my fault she just lost her chance to get some more of my money?”

“Huh,” Anne replied, dismissing him. “So, you guys just settled another bet,” she continued carefully. “About me?”

“Um, yeah,” Jim reluctantly acknowledged. “We’re sorry. It wasn’t very nice, but at the time, well…” He shrugged boyishly. “Some of us said you’d keep your old name, having been used to it, some of us said you’d change part of it and some of us said you’d change all of it. To Anneka Maypenny or something else.”

Anne glanced around the table. “I see. After spending every day for the past three months giving lawyers and therapists and court-appointed legal guardians a chance to earn a paycheck and kill some time, as well as provide some fodder for the rumor mills and the reporters and photographers who felt lost and directionless after the whole thing with the President blew over, no pun intended, it’s good to know I’m providing some amusement for you people, too.”

A moment after her outburst, Anne’s eyes flew open wide, her face flushed and she put up her hands defensively. “I am so sorry! I don’t know what I’m saying half the time. Please, forgive me. I-I-I… I’d better just go.” She pushed back at her chair and was up and out the door in a flash.

Trixie stood and hurried after her, saying, “I’ll talk to her.”

**

As the clubhouse door slammed shut, Mart said, “Anyone else think we’re headed for a disaster if Trixie’s the one responsible for smoothing things over? I mean, maybe we should check on them?”

“Mart,” Dan said quietly. “I think Trixie can handle it. Give her a chance, okay?”

Mart just hunched down in his chair and pulled the copy of Time in front of him and flipped through to the cover article.

As Mart paged through the commentary and editorials, Honey stood and went to the window. Brian joined her there.

“How’s it going out there?” he asked softly.

Honey rubbed her arms worriedly as she faced him. “Okay, I guess. Margaret- I mean, Anne’s crying, but Trixie seems to be helping, so…”

Brian turned toward her, effectively blocking Honey’s view of the room. He said quietly, “Honey, I was wondering if you might like to catch a movie or something while I’m here. Some guys in the dorm went to see Shakespeare in Love and they said it’s pretty good.”

Honey felt her heart leap in her chest and start doing backflips. “Oh, Brian! I’d love to go, except, well,” she bit her lower lip, “Trixie and Diana and I saw it already.”

“Oh!” Brian took a deep breath. “I see. Well. Okay, then. Did you like it?”

Honey nodded anxiously. “It was really, um… romantic.”

“Well. Some other time, then?” He took a step back from her, the hope dying in his eyes.

“Definitely,” Honey agreed, wishing she felt freer to suggest doing something else that evening. Unfortunately, the Sleepyside Movie Palace only had 2 theaters and the other movie was - “Life is Beautiful is playing.”

His dark eyes lit with the resurrection of hope. “I hear that’s a good movie, too.”

“Uh-huh,” she nodded. “Romantic and funny. Of course, it’s about the Holocaust…” She shrugged.

“Sounds good. So, can I pick you up at 6:30? We could get dinner in town at Luigi’s.”

She nodded, a huge smile on her face. “That sounds wonderful! It’s an Italian movie, so Italian food would be perfectly perfect.”

“Great! I’m looking forward to it.” He grinned, absurdly happy. 

**

“Whoa!” Mart breathed.

“Something wrong?” Jim asked, flipping through the Times for the crossword puzzle.

“Just reading about the settlement Maypenny reached.”

“It’s something, isn’t it,” Dan remarked casually, idly flipping through the city news section of the Times.

“You know about it?” Mart asked.

“Well, sure. Maypenny’s been keeping me and Uncle Bill up to date.”

“You haven’t told us,” Jim pointed out.

Dan shrugged. “One, it’s not my habit to gossip. Two, it’s a matter of public record anyway and three, you guys didn’t ask.”

“Sor-ry,” Jim cracked. “So. Mart. I’m asking. What’s the settlement?”

“It’s all detailed in this sidebar,” Mart said, indicating the page. “Basically, the Langs owe Mr. Maypenny about $10 million for damages, pain and suffering, but they lucked out on the wrongful death claim about Mrs. Maypenny.”

“What was that about, anyway?” Diana asked, uncomfortably aware she was breaking into a ‘guy’ conversation about current events.

Mart frowned. “I think it was about the fact that Mrs. Maypenny wouldn’t have died if the Langs hadn’t kidnapped Anneka. I mean, Anne.”

“The lawyers put that in there,” Dan remarked quietly. “Mr. Maypenny only wanted an apology and his daughter back. I don’t know what he’s going to do with the money besides earmark it in trust for Anne.” He glanced up from the newspaper. “He wants to be sure she has enough cash for whatever college she wants to go to and anything else she wants to do, too.”

“Go on, Mart,” Jim requested. “What else does it say? I haven’t read it yet.”

Mart returned his gaze to the page. “Well, besides the $10 million to Mr. Maypenny, and the formal apology, Anne gets to keep her trust fund of almost $100 thousand and some stock in a development firm in Ohio that her other dad gave her on her 10th birthday. And her dog, Pepper. In all, not a bad haul.”

“Considering her likely future medical bills, I hope it’s enough,” Dan commented.

“Huh? I thought Mr. Maypenny matched as a donor,” Jim said.

“He did,” Dan said. “So did David, his nephew. But the procedure isn’t a cure, it’s just a way to get her out of the danger zone. Another 5 or 10 years and she could need to repeat the operation. Her system is just too badly damaged to be reverted to anything resembling normal. She’ll always be on daily insulin, for example.”

“You seem to know a lot about this,” Jim said carefully. “Any particular reason why?”

Dan glanced sharply at Jim. “Should there be?”

Jim sighed. “How long are we going to be doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Acting like we’re fighting when we’re not. It’s getting old.” Jim noticed Mart and Di get up and leave them alone. Jim leaned closer to Dan and spoke softer. “Are we fighting? Because, if we are, I want to resolve it and move on.”

Dan took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Jim. I don’t know why I’m so edgy. I’ve been preoccupied with a lot of things lately and I guess I’ve been taking them out on you.” He brushed his long hair off his face. “I’ve been dealing with a lot of anniversaries. Not the good kind, either. It was two years ago January that I moved here, you know. Which means a month before that, Eldon and Darci were murdered, I was arrested and then brought up here and all that other stuff happened. And as that was on my mind, all that shit with Anne happened and Duke and Kilroy coming up here and then the trial, and I’ve been so preoccupied with all of that I didn’t deal with all the bad feelings inside like I could have. Or should have, I guess.” 

Jim nodded. “I understand. I get this way every time May rolls around. That’s the month things got really bad with my step-father and June is when I finally got out of there.” He paused a moment. “It’s hard to think about it, isn’t it? How close you can come to losing everything without ever realizing it. Makes you wonder if you’re close to losing it all right now.”

The corner of Dan’s mouth lifted in a semi-smile. “Honestly? These days, the only thing that keeps me going is knowing that Anne needs me.”

Jim grinned slowly. “So, it’s like that, is it?”

“Kind of. We’ve bonded, you know? She relies on me. She trusts me.”

“Plus there’s the obvious,” Jim said. “When she’s not being a b-, well, a witch, she’s actually kind of pretty.”

Dan just shook his head slowly and chuckled. “You have no idea.”

**

Mart and Di, noticing that Dan and Jim needed to talk and that Honey and Brian seemed to be concentrating on each other, busied themselves with the snack counter. After a moment, Diana shook her head slowly. “I still can’t get over it! How she just crumpled to the floor and stared up at Mr. Maypenny and called him ‘Daddy’! Gives me shivers. What I don’t understand, though, is if she recognized him then, why didn’t she recognize him when he first came in the room?”

Mart answered, “Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I asked Brian about that. He studied it in some class last semester.”

“But isn’t that what happens to war veterans?” Diana asked.

Mart nodded. “Sure. They used to call it ‘shell-shock’ or ‘battle fatigue’, but it doesn’t have to be a battle situation. As Brian explained it to me, any sufficiently traumatic experience can cause that effect. When children experience a traumatic episode, particularly before they’re 7 or 8 years old, it can have even more devastating consequences. Memory lapses, suicidal tendencies, depression. Nightmares. The original trauma could resurface in any number of phobias or behavioral quirks.”

“Honey said she had a nightmare that very same night she came home from the hospital.” 

“And she wasn’t taking very good care of herself. Children with PSTD tend to believe and act as if they won’t live to be adults. They live as if their days are numbered,” Mart continued.

“But surely, she was too young to really remember,” Diana pointed out. “And she was at least kidnapped by people who took care of her, right?”

Mart shook his head. “Brian says that since by age 2, which she was, children can easily recognize their parents and their homes, and know the difference between a friend or relative and a stranger, she knew she didn’t know the Langs. What made it worse, however, was that Mrs. Lang gave her a great deal of sugar in an attempt to calm her down. It’s what apparently triggered her diabetes. Her system went into a total meltdown. They barely got her to a hospital in time. You have to figure that, in the space of a few hours, she was kidnapped and fed a large amount of sugar – what to her was poison – and then hospitalized for a month. But then to have every adult around you telling you that these were your parents? Heck, it’d make me freak out, too.”

“But she was born with it, wasn’t she?” Diana asked. “I mean, Mr. Maypenny said that his wife had diabetes, too.”

Mart shrugged. “He also said that his wife was controlling her diabetes so well, she was down to less than one shot of insulin a day. She even had a trouble-free pregnancy. Chances were that their daughter wouldn’t have exhibited any symptoms at all, had she been raised in the same, natural-foods environment that Mrs. Maypenny thrived in.”

“It’s just so sad,” Diana said softly. “So awful.”

Mart put his arms around her and held her close, comforting her as best as he could.

**

“Hey, guys,” Brian called out. “I think maybe it’s safe to check on them. Let’s go, okay? I still want to get some riding in, and we’ve got more business to take care of.”

The others agreed, and soon everyone was out the door to check on Trixie and Anne.

**

Anne hadn’t gone far. Trixie found her leaning on the trunk of a maple tree, her head turned. Trixie stopped her approach a few steps away. “Anne?” she asked softly. “Are you all right?”

Anne shook her head. “No. I’m not all right. I don’t think I’ll ever be all right.” She looked at Trixie. Tears rolled over her thin cheeks in twin rivulets. She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know what to do.”

Trixie, however, did know and didn’t hesitate. She stepped forward and pulled Anne into her arms, holding her as the smaller girl dissolved into wracking sobs. As she patted Anne’s back and murmured soothingly to her, her mind reflected on her sudden impulse to hurry after her. Why hadn’t she let Honey or Diana or even Dan do this? They had more experience with this sort of thing, she knew. She supposed, however, that following through on an impulse to help someone in emotional distress, rather than physical or legal distress, meant she was finally growing up.

A moment later, Anne pulled away and wiped her eyes. She stared at Trixie through clumped lashes, then grinned. “I didn’t expect you to follow me out here. Thanks.”

Trixie felt a stir of embarrassment but kept herself from folding her arms. “You were upset. I couldn’t just let you leave like that.”

Anne nodded. “My therapist says I should expect sudden mood shifts. She says it’s only natural, especially now after the trial.”

Trixie frowned. “I’d think the trial would have been the stressful part.”

“Well, it was. Don’t get me wrong. These past few months were the worst of my life.” Anne smirked. “That I can clearly remember, that is. I’m sure the kidnapping was worse.”

“Do you remember anything about it at all?” Trixie asked, then mentally slapped herself. How could you bring that up?

But instead of snapping at her, Anne turned thoughtful. “I’m starting to. The therapist has taught me some relaxation techniques, and she tried hypnosis on me. That seemed to help some. And being here helps.”

“Do you remember living here?”

Anne nodded. “For the most part, I think so. I remember the woods. That’s why I was walking through them in the first place. I clearly remembered Mr. Lytell’s store, because that’s where we’d go to get supplies. It was a Big Event.” She chuckled ruefully. “I remember thinking that was Sleepyside. Just that one store.”

Trixie grinned. “I think I did the same thing! When we’d go into Sleepyside, though, I remember asking if it was the city. My parents didn’t understand I was asking if it was New York City. You know, Manhattan. Gosh, I haven’t thought of that in… forever, I think. I must have been, maybe, 3 years old?”

Anne’s smile turned sad. “I would have been 4.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “We would have grown up together. My dad says he and my mom took me for ‘play dates’ with your brothers and you. Apparently, I liked to play with your blocks.” Her eyes welled up with tears, yet she laughed as she said, “Dad says I used to take Brian and Mart’s Tonka truck, load it up with your blocks and race it through the flower garden.”

“That was you?”

Startled, the two girls turned to see the Belden brothers, Honey, Jim, Di and Dan standing nearby. Brian had spoken.

“Um, yeah,” Anne replied, hurriedly wiping her face. “At least, that’s what my dad says.”

“I remember that! Mart, don’t you remember some little kid taking our toys and ruining them?” Brian turned to his brother.

Mart frowned. “I think so. Maybe. I always thought it was Trixie, though.”

“As if!” Trixie mocked. “You guys never let me get close enough to your stuff.”

“How could you think it was Trixie?” Anne asked. “We don’t look anything alike.”

“Think about it,” Brian explained, “There’s a girl in the neighborhood who comes over to play once in a while, then disappears and no one mentions her again, yet when you remember it later, you can’t put a name to the face, so you just assume it was someone you know now. In this case, I thought Trixie was the brat burying my Tonka truck in the garden.”

“Brat!” Anne and Trixie shrieked together. Startled at their unison, they stared at each other, then began to laugh.

“No kidding, you guys knew each other?” Dan asked, stepping forward.

“I think so,” Brian replied, nodding his head. “But I’d have to ask Moms and Dad about it to be sure. I tell you, Anne, they’re really happy to have you back. In fact-“

“That reminds me,” Trixie interrupted, ignoring Brian’s words, “Moms wants you to come to dinner just as soon as you can. You and your dad, of course. She’s real excited about getting to see you again.”

“Yeah, I can imagine,” Anne replied. “I know I haven’t been around these past few weeks, but I’m sure you can all understand why. What with one trial and another, having to go back and forth to Sugar Grove, to New York and spend all day in stuffy courtrooms or doctor’s offices, I haven’t been able to see anybody. I got all their cards and flowers, though. I just wanted to thank them in person, is all.”

“So, that’s a ‘yes, we’ll make plans to show up’ or what?” Mart asked.

Anne blinked at him. “That’s a yes.”

“Great!” Trixie cheered. “Then that makes the rest of our meeting a snap. As long as you keep that word handy.”

“Oh, wait! That reminds me. Dan?” Anne grinned. Dan looked at her expectantly. Anne took a deep breath and announced, “I’m formally evicting you from your room. As of tomorrow, I expect that room to be cleared of all your junk. Got it?”

Dan laughed and nodded. “I got it. Yeah, I guessed that would happen. Uncle Bill has already checked with Mr. Wheeler and he’s agreed to let me live in the other apartment above the garage. It’s small, but it’ll be fine.”

Anne nodded once. “Well, that was it. Now that my dad has legal custody over me again, I’m moving from Dynasty straight into Little House in the Big Woods.” Anne grinned. “I guess I should let you guys get to your meeting, though. Aren’t you going back inside?”

Anne took a step backward, but Trixie took her arm. “You can’t leave yet!”

“You’re on the agenda,” Mart said.

Confused, Anne frowned. “I am? Why?”

Trixie grinned at her. “All shall be made clear,” she said mysteriously. “Honey? Are you ready?”

Honey grinned and announced, “We’re all set here, Madam President.” She took a small red bundle out from behind her back and handed it to Trixie with great ceremony. Trixie gestured for everyone to pay attention, then she said, “On behalf of all the Bob-Whites of the Glen, I am proud to present to you this official Bob-White jacket, and offer you full membership in the BWG’s, with all the rights, privileges and responsibilities that that entails. Do you accept?”

Tears shining in her eyes, Anne took the jacket and gently shook out the folds. Her brown eyes instantly found the perfectly perfect stitching over the left breast: Anneka. “You put my name on it!”

“Your real name,” Honey confirmed. “Because we want the real you to join our family. We’re all brothers and sisters here. That means we look out for one another and-“

“-and protect one another,” Jim continued.

“-and support one another,” Dan offered.

“-and defend one another,” Brian said.

“-and help one another,” Diana smiled.

“-and inspire one another,” Mart grinned.

“-and love one another,” Trixie said, adding, “although that one’s a little tough.”

The newest Bob-White laughed. “And you one-up one another, too! I think I can manage that!”

“There’s just a few rules you have to agree to,” Trixie warned. “You have to pay dues, but not more than you can afford. Just what you feel you can spare. And, and this is most important, the money has to be money that you’ve earned yourself. You can’t just write a check out of that trust fund or donate your stocks.”

“But of course I earned that money! I was a loving daughter to two horrible people for almost fifteen years! You don’t think I earned that money?” Anne looked for support among the group.

“What we mean is physical work. Labor,” Jim explained. “Honey takes in sewing and is Mother’s personal secretary when she’s in town. Trixie gets paid for taking care of Bobby. Dan is your father’s assistant. Mart takes in odd jobs around town and tutors kids after school. Brian and I work at college. He works in the infirmary and I’m a part-time assistant for the Psychology Department. You need to come up with something you can do to earn some cash.”

Anne thought a moment, still holding the jacket in front of her. “Well, I’ve always been pretty good with a computer. I guess I could manage to figure something out about that. Maybe I could tutor kids, too. I’m pretty good in calculus and physics. And I will be attending regular school in the fall. Which will be a pretty new experience for me. Apparently, I’ll be going in as a Senior, whatever that means exactly, so that I can have a full school year here before graduating with kids my own age and then going to college.”

Honey snapped her fingers. “Forget all that! I know what you’re going to do and you’ll just love it!”

“What?”

Honey grinned. “Come on. Put on that jacket and let’s go up to the stables. Since Daddy bought your horse from that government auction, he said that Regan would be allowed to hire on some part-time help on account of it. Now, it would be an hour or two a day, plus all day Sunday, which is Regan’s day off, and most of Saturday, and Tuesday night, because that’s his half-day. What do you think?”

“Work with horses? I’d love it!” Anne said eagerly, slipping on the jacket. “How do I look?”

“You look great!” Trixie beamed and impulsively hugged her. As they separated, however, Trixie noticed the other girl’s eyes suddenly start to well up with tears. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Anne replied. “Nothing at all. Everything’s really, really right. Let’s go so I can apologize to my new boss for the rude things I’ve said to him in the past.” As they started up the hill toward Manor House, Anne fell into step next to Dan. She said quietly, “Do you think he’ll forgive and forget?”

“Sure,” Dan said, reassuringly taking her hand in his. “That could happen.”

The Bob-Whites of the Glen hurried up the drive to Manor House, laughing and shouting in the simple exuberance of being alive, being young, and being in upstate New York on a perfectly clear April morning with nothing to do but ride horses and have fun.

**

Inside the stables, they were surprised to find Mr. Maypenny and Mr. Wheeler speaking quietly with Regan. The men looked up as the noisy group entered.

Mr. Wheeler called out, “Good morning, everyone. Going for a ride? It’s certainly beautiful weather for it!”

“Hey, Red!” Anne called out as they approached. She nodded to Regan and smiled at her father.

Honey gave her own father a quick peck on the cheek. “Hi, Daddy! We decided it was too nice a morning not to take a ride, so here we are!” Matthew smiled indulgently at his daughter, lifting a strand of her honey-blonde hair out of her eyes.

Mr. Maypenny watched Matthew and Honey and felt a strange stirring in his gut. Was it jealousy? Now, that wasn’t something he’d had much experience with. True, there was that time, before he’d declared himself to Katrina, that he’d made such an absolute fool of himself over her, thinking she was in love with Lytell. How wrong could one man be? he reminded himself ruefully. Still, his own daughter tensed up when she was around him, and when they were alone together, she could barely speak to him. How was he going to handle the next 17 months until she went away to college? Mentally, he shook himself. I’d handled Daniel, hadn’t I? But then, Daniel was a rebel, and you understand how such young men think, having been a particularly rebellious one yourself. What do you know about girls? I understood Katrina. But that was easy. All you had to do was love her. Well, then there’s my answer. She’s my daughter. All that I have left of my wife. Love her. No matter what.

Aloud, Mr. Maypenny said, “Anneka, that is a beautiful horse. Regan was telling us how exceptionally well-trained he is.”

Anne blushed. “Thanks.” She turned to Matthew. “Oh, Red, thank you so much for buying Whistler! He means so much to me. I’m glad he’s gotten such a good home, and that maybe I’ll be able to spend some time with him?” She smiled hopefully.

“That’s my plan, all right,” Matthew Wheeler said, beaming. “It just didn’t seem right for that beautiful animal to go to just anyone, so I snatched him up. I trust Honey has mentioned a certain part-time job to you?”

Regan looked a bit cautious. Anne just grinned. “She has and I accept. I’m thinking then that, if I take this job, part of my duties might be to continue Whistler’s training?”

“Not just that, dear,” Wheeler said, “but Madeline and I hope you bring home lots of trophies and ribbons with Whistler. We expect you two to do well at the upcoming county shows.”

“Oh! We will,” she said, already hurrying toward Whistler’s stall. “I promise you, we will. Hey, guy, I really missed you!” She reached over the door toward a tall, gray and white horse. The Bob-Whites followed, taking a good look at the new addition to the stables.

Mart asked, “Why did you name him Whistler? Does he come when you whistle for him or something?”

“Well, I did teach him to do that, but that’s not why.” She grinned impishly. “See his speckled coloring? Well, he looks almost exactly like his mother. See,” she chuckled, “his mother was an arrangement in gray and black. Get it?”

For a moment, silence reigned. Then Diana burst out laughing. “Oh! I get it! That’s really funny!” When the others Bob-Whites demanded to know what was so funny, she explained. “Tell me if I’m wrong but, the painting everyone calls ‘Whistler’s Mother’ Whistler himself called ‘An Arrangement in Gray and Black’.” She glanced around at her friends, dismayed to see not a whit of recognition among them. “Well, I get it, even if these philistines don’t!”

“Ouch!” Mart pretended to be shot. “I may not know art, but I do know what a philistine is! I shall bone up on that very subject as soon as we return from our ride. Shall we get started?”

The three men watched the bustle of activity as the Bob-Whites scurried for bridles, saddles and horses. Mr. Wheeler nudged Mr. Maypenny. “You know, you two look a lot alike.”

Micah Maypenny grinned. “Thank you, but to me she looks most like her mother. For that, I’m grateful. Why should a young lady want to look like an old man, anyway?” He laughed and Matthew and Regan chuckled.

“I’m grateful for all you’ve done for her, through the years. She told me that, most times, you and your wife were the only friends she had,” Micah continued.

Matthew sighed. “She was just such a lonely child. Victor and Adele never let her out of their sight. I mean that quite literally. She was never alone and never allowed to play with kids her own age. It’s odd. Madeline has trouble relating to our own daughter, but with ‘Margaret’, she never seemed to have any difficulty at all.”

Micah nodded thoughtfully.

The Bob-Whites had saddled their chosen mounts and led them into the stable yard. As Mart helped Di up behind him on Strawberry, and Dan moved to help Anne into Whistler’s saddle, Regan interrupted.

“I have a few words to say to you, before you actually start working for me,” he told Anne. She turned, expectant, and waited for him to begin. Dan took one look at his uncle’s expression, backed away and mounted Cranberry.

“What’s up, Boss?” Anne grinned. Inside, her heart began to pound. The last time they had spoken, she had practically torn his head off for suggesting she groom her own horse. Now she was going to work for him. She steeled herself. How bad could this actually get?

“First,” Regan began firmly, “when you work for me, you do as I say, no questions. No running to ‘Red’ or your father moaning about how I mistreat you or make you do work or anything like that. No complaints and no back talk and especially, no crying. I can’t stand women who use tears to get what they want. Furthermore,” he said, forestalling her question, “I won’t be interrupted. You can talk when I’m done, but all I’ll want to hear is ‘yes, Regan’ and ‘right away, Regan’. Maybe I’d like to hear ‘good morning, Regan’ or ‘have a nice day, Regan’, but that’s about it.” He folded his arms and stared down at her. She didn’t reply, but she didn’t look angry, either.

“Good,” he said, and continued. “You’ll be here from 3:30 – 5 every day after school to muck out the stalls and clean up the tack room. When you ride, you’ll be responsible for taking care of your horse. That means, rubdown, grooming, feeding and cleaning the tack. You don’t pawn off your chores on anyone else, you don’t ask for help and you don’t whine about it, either. I don’t want to see any of the Bob-Whites doing your work. That’s not what you’re getting paid for.

“You don’t leave until I’m satisfied that your work has been done adequately and to my satisfaction. I won’t be taking any time off until I’m certain that you can handle things here on your own, which means I’ll be with you every Tuesday night from 3:30 – 9:30, every Saturday from 8 until noon and every Sunday from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m., which will probably make me pretty cranky. You can bring your lunch or eat in the Wheeler’s servant’s kitchen with the rest of the staff. Cook will show you where that is.

“You take better care of the horses than you do yourself. That means you don’t bring them back sweaty and foaming at the mouth and you don’t leave them afterward until they’re comfortable. However, given your condition, I expect you to take well enough care of yourself that you don’t endanger the horses.” He finally paused. “You got all that?”

She hesitated and then grinned hopefully, opening her mouth to speak. In her periphery, she noticed the Bob-Whites glancing over to where she and Regan stood, and her father and Red watching intently as well.

“Good,” he continued, “because there’s more. If you ever, and I mean ever, speak to me the way you spoke to me the first time you came here, I will personally see to it that, not only will you be unable to ride a horse again, you won’t want to even consider it. Do I make myself clear?”

Anne hesitated, then asked. “Can I speak now?”

He looked wary and stern. He nodded. “Go ahead.”

She nodded firmly. “Good. Then, this is what I have to say. I accept your terms and I’ll be here tomorrow at 8 a.m. sharp to begin work. I’m confident that I’ll be up to any challenge you toss my way, but I also want to make it clear that I’ve never done any of this before, though I have seen people muck stalls and such. So, as long as you don’t get too upset with me if I make a mistake with it, then I think it’ll all work out. And I’m sorry about the way I treated you before. It was incredibly rude and unforgivable, but in my own defense, I was under a lot of strain.”

Regan hesitated, then nodded. “Apology accepted,” he said gruffly.

Anne took a deep breath, looked up at the handsome, redheaded groom and smiled, holding out her hand. “It’s extremely nice to meet you, Regan. I don’t know who that other girl was, so you can make out my paycheck to Anne Maypenny.”

Regan slowly grinned back at her as he shook her hand. “Anne, I think we’ll get along fine.”

The Bob-Whites breathed a collective sigh of relief. Anne had finally passed a test with Regan, a major accomplishment considering her first impression. They waited while Regan helped her into the saddle, give a few more instructions, then send her on her way. As usual, Jupiter and Susie struck out for a path into the woods; the rest of the horses instinctively followed behind.

Honey didn’t join in the free-flowing conversation that started. Anne wanted to know what public school was like and there were no shortage of opinions. Instead of offering her own take on the education system, Honey just smiled, incredibly pleased that all her childhood dreams were coming true. She had friends. She belonged to a secret club. She helped people. She went to a normal school with regular people. She was no longer chronically ill. She no longer had disturbing nightmares. She had a date that very night with the nicest, handsomest boy she knew.

Honey Wheeler was happy.

Hee-hee-hee!

Honey looked sharply to her left. Immediately, she saw a small child, a little girl with long brown hair and big brown eyes standing in a brilliant shaft of light. She wore a bright red-checked dress, long white stockings and white party shoes. She grinned up at Honey and waved a thin hand.

Honey reined in her horse, causing Lady to nicker.

“Honey?” Brian, several yards ahead of her, looked back. “Something wrong?”

She met Brian’s friendly concern with a question. “Do you -?” But as she turned to gesture at the sight, the image of the little girl in the light faded into nothingness.

Honey stared into the bushes but could see no sign of the little girl. She rubbed her eyes and looked again. Still, nothing. She shook her head to clear it, then smiled hesitantly back at Brian. “No, nothing’s wrong. Just my eyes playing tricks, I guess.” She urged Lady toward him, dismissing the incident entirely.

“The others have gone on ahead,” he told her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Honey smiled at his consideration. “I’m wonderful. I can’t remember the last time I felt this happy.”

Brian grinned at her. “I don’t think I have ever been this happy.”

Honey gave Lady a kick and moved up alongside Brian. “Then the feeling’s mutual?” she asked, a bit daring.

“The feeling is definitely mutual,” he replied, and they rode up the trail together.

(end)


End file.
